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THE PATRIOT 






















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Back, Men, Back, Let the Law Take its Course; Respect this Flag! 



THE PATRIOT 


By 

Thomas Alva Stubbins 




Chicago : 

M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY 
1908 



UBKAffY of C0N3R£Ss! 
Two Copies rtecuijAi 

MAR 6 5908 

upwrngfH entry 

^ 5~ /<?*# 

JL^SS A AXc. Ku, 
'COPY B. r 


COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY 
Thomas Alva Stubbins 
(All Rights Reserved) 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


Page 

“Back, Men, Back, Let the Law Take its Course; 


Respect this Flag!” Frontispiece 

She Now Knew that She Loved Burton 97 y 

Mary Gasped, “My God, Rob, That Man was Charlie” 176 " 
“Why Should I be so Cursed Patriotic” 203 j 


ILLUSTRATED BY B. M. FRENCH 







CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 


I. 

A Fugitive Slave and His Secret. 

II. 

An Epoch Making Sermon. 

III. 

The Rowdies Make a Plot. 

IV. 

Preparations for the Saw Mill Gathering. 

V. 

The Fight in the Old Saw Mill. 

VI. 

Bright Dreams Dispelled. 

VII. 

Mary Hears “The Old, Old Story.” 

VIII. 

At the Picnic. 

IX. 

Some Reminiscences of Squire Colter. 

X. 

An Anonymous Letter. 

XI. 

Bill Carter’s Wife. 

XII. 

Bill Carter an Advocate of the “Higher Law. 

XIII. 

A Lost Child. 

XIV. 

The Cave. 

* XV. 

The Search. 

XVI. 

Over into “Egypt.” 

XVII. 

A Tragedy. 

XVIII. 

The Arrest. 

XIX. 

The Trial. 

XX. 

Squire Colter Kneels to Burton. 

XXI. 

Love or Law? 

XXII. 

The Convict’s Son. 

XXIII. 

A Letter from the Governor. 

XXIV. 

The Shut Door. 

XXV. 

Bill’s Last Fling at the World. 

XXVI. 

Angry Preachers. 

XXVII. 

Upon the Wild Night a Wilder Cry. 

XXVIII. 

The Midnight Funeral. 

XXIX. 

The Next Morning. 

XXX. 

The Slave Jim’s Grandson. 

XXXI. 

At the Broken Bridge. 






































































































































‘ 























































































* 







To two stalwarts who have done 
much for “The Patriot's ” cause 

ROBERT LAFOLLETTE 

the “little badger” who never gives up 

AND 

JOSEPH FOLK 

who refused a $2,000,000 bribe 
offered him to let up in his fight 
for the people ; and to that ever 
increasing band who believe in 

“POLITICAL RELIGION" 


















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PREFACE 


“Let every American, every lover of liberty, every 
well wisher of his posterity, swear by the blood of the 
revolution never to violate in the least particular the 
laws of ihis country, and never to tolerate their violation 
by others. As the patriots of ’76 did to support the Dec- 
laration of Independence, so to the support of the Consti- 
tution and the laws, let every American pledge his life, 
his property and his sacred honor. Let every man re- 
member that to violate the law is to trample on the blood 
of his fathers, and to tear the charter of his own and his 
Children’s liberty. Let reverence for the laws be breathed 
by every American mother to the lisping babe that prattles 
on her lap. Let it be taught in schools, in seminaries and 
colleges. Let it 'be written in primers, spelling-books and 
almanacs. Let it be preached from the pulpit, proclaim- 
ed in legislative halls, and enforced in courts of justice. 
And, in short, let it become the political religion of the 
nation.” 

Abraham Lincoln. 

“If anything is clear it is this : That the law is higher 
than the behest of any party or interest.” 


Gunsaulus. 


















































THE PATRIOT 


CHAPTER I. 

A FUGITIVE SLAVE AND HIS SECRET. 

When I went to Richton, a village in Western New 
York, in the fall of 190 — , to be principal of the public 
school, I was not greatly impressed with the outlook. 
If any one had told me that there, in that little inland 
village, would be enacted stirring scenes in the next few 
months, I would have scoffed at the idea. The place 
was so dull, at first, that even its marvelous picturesque- 
ness palled on me. I anticipated an uneventful year — 
how greatly I was mistaken. 

A couple of weeks after I arrived Rev. Robert Bur- 
ton came to be pastor of the church in Richton. In fact, 
it was and is the only one within five miles. Because of 
this, the church had a large country constituency. 

As Burton and I were both young men, and strangers 
in the community, we were drawn together. We also 
had rooms at the same house. I soon learned that he was 
a man of strong convictions and an iron will. He spoke 
his thoughts frankly and openly, but always in a gentle- 
manly way, giving due consideration to any one’s ideas. 
He was especially outspoken in regard to the necessity of 
*7 


i8 


THE PATRIOT 


enforcing law. This brought him into many strange 
positions and adventures, that culminated in that awful 
tragedy of, — but I must set things in order, for then 
perhaps the people of Ridhton will be judged less harshly. 

From the first I thought “Rob,” as I was soon calling 
him, for we became good chums, had something on his 
mind that troubled him. He was a splendid companion 
with a friendly ringing laugh, with a hearty, firm hand- 
shake, but often in the very midst of a good time, some 
disagreeable recollection seemed to force itself upon him, 
for his face would settle into a determined look, and he 
would grow silent and almost morose. 

One day I said to him, “Rob, where did you get such 
strong sentiments about enforcing law ?” 

“I inherited them, I suppose,” he said shortly and 
turned away. 

Not that day but when I had become such a true 
friend that he felt the utmost confidence in me, I learned 
from him the following history of his ancestors. 

The Burtons were descended from an old Southern 
family, that had settled in Kentucky in the year 1801. 
They owned a large plantation and many hundreds of 
slaves. Henry Burton was the name of Rob’s father. By 
judicious handling Henry Burton made the plantation 
very valuable and greatly increased the number of slaves. 
He was well educated and could express himself fluently, 
when he made a speech, as he often did, especially during 
political campaigns. He was a man of quick temper, but 
he soon cooled down and became his jovial self once more. 


THE PATRIOT 


19 


But 1 his anger never went further than words, for he was 
never known to strike any one, not even a slave. 

On one occasion at a political gathering Henry Burton 
made a speech favoring a measure, that he thought would 
be good for the commonwealth of Kentucky. In his re- 
marks he took the opportunity to scathingly rebuke the 
state officials, who it was almost certain, had received 
bribes not to prosecute some wealthy law-breakers of 
the capital city. 

The speaker who followed Col. Burton, — he had se- 
cured his title for gallant conduct in the Mexican war, — 
was very bitter in his remarks. This speaker was an of- 
ficial of the State, Lieut. Governor. He began by trying to 
make fun of Col. Burton’s war record, then he took up 
the speech in detail and held the sentiments expressed, up 
to ridicule. But he gained very little applause from 
his hearers, for they knew the Colonel well, and they 
knew that he had not spoken without cause. Then the 
Lieut. Governor turned his poor witticisms against the 
Colonel’s personal appearance, and some peculiarities of 
his manner of speech. As he was a good mimic and imi- 
tated the Colonel’s manner exactly, except that he greatly 
exaggerated it, he soon had the rougher element of the 
crowd roaring with laughter. 

At this demonstration the Colonel became very angry 
and was heard to say, “I would like to choke that fellow 
to death.” 

A few more speeches were made, after the Lieut. 
Governor had closed his tirade, and then the meeting 


20 


THE PATRIOT 


broke up. The men did not go home at once but stood 
around in groups and talked until almost dark. The lieu- 
tenant governor finally mounted his horse and, amid the 
shoutings of his adherents, departed, riding alone. He 
was going to spend the night at the Baxter’s, who had 
been detained from the meeting at the last moment. The 
Baxter plantation joined Colonel Burton’s. 

The Colonel and Merton Thompson rode together for 
a couple of miles, then Mr. Thompson turned into his 
drive-way. As he was leaving, he pointed to a horse- 
man, who was just entering the river road, where, for two 
or three miles, it wound among the tall trees, and was 
very lonely. 

“There goes your defamer, Colonel,” Mr. Thompson 
said, “you had better go and give him a good cowhiding.” 

“Not tonight, Thompson,” answered the Colonel, “I 
am too mad and might be too severe.” 

He then turned into the same road the lieutenant gov- 
ernor was on, for that was his nearest way home. 

The next morning the lieutenant governor was found 
dead, by the Baxters, who had gone out early seeking 
him, for they were worried at his non-appearance. He had 
gone about half way through the stretch of river road, and 
had evidently been knocked from his horse, then stabbed 
and choked, as the murderer’s cruel finger marks could be 
seen upon his throat. He had evidently revived before 
dying and crawled out of the road into a clump of bushes. 
His watch was taken and what money he had, it was 


THE PATRIOT 


21 


known to have been quite a sum. His horse, a fine ani- 
mal, had disappeared. 

At the Burton plantation all was excitement, for Jim, 
one of the most vicious and troublesome of the slaves had 
run away. When the news of the lieutenant governor’s 
death reached there, the excitement increased, and Col. 
Burton said that he believed that Jim was the murderer, 
and that he had taken the horse, watch and money to 
aid him in escaping. 

This, very evidently, was not the opinion of the ma- 
jority of the crowd which had gathered, especially the 
friends of the lieutenant governor, the Baxters, who were 
also bitter enemies of Col. Burton. Dark suspicious looks 
were cast upon him, then the Baxters and some others 
gathered in a group and talked long and quietly. The 
Colonel paid no attention to these ominous looks and con- 
ferences, but went ahead with the preparation that he was 
making to follow the runaway. When he was ready a 
group of men gathered about him and one said, “Colonel, 
we can’t let you go.” 

Then, the Colonel straightened up proudly in his 
saddle and said, “Gentlemen, I would be a fool not to 
know your suspicions, and so I give my word of honor 
that I will return. Now may I go?” 

“Certainly,” they shouted with one voice as they stood 
aside with lifted hats. 

Then, amid the cheering of those behind, the Colonel 
and his companions rode away after Jim. Jim 'had twelve 
hours’ start, and if he had taken the horse of the lieuten- 


THE PATRIOT 


H2 

ant governor, he was now probably half way to the Ohio 
river. The Burton plantation was 150 miles south of 
Cincinnati. Col. Burton and the men with him were well 
mounted and hoped to overtake the fugitive before he 
reached the river. They counted on getting fresh horses 
as they went along, and in this way travel much faster 
than Jim could with his one horse. When twenty miles 
of their journey had been covered, they stopped to get 
fresh horses, and to make inquiry. They learned that the 
night before, at about 10 o’clock, some one had ridden by 
going like the wind. The pursuers now felt that they 
were on the right track. 

Not until they had gone thirty miles more were they 
able to make another change of mounts. While the 
horses were being saddled, the men ate a light luncheon 
for it was now noon, and they were still a hundred miles 
from the river. As they pressed on, they heard, now and 
then, of a horseman that had dashed by at a frightful 
speed. Seventy-five miles from the city they found a 
horse that was identified by one of the Colonel’s com- 
panions as the lieutenant governor’s. The animal had 
been ridden so unmercifully that he was almost ruined. 
Another horse had been taken from a field nearby, by 
the fleeing man, and its absence had not been noticed, un- 
til about an hour before the Colonel and his companions 
arrived. The pursuers were now only six hours behind 
the fugitive, but unless he had been stopped he would 
probably reach the river. The planter, from whom the 
horse had been stolen, joined the Colonel’s party. 


THE PATRIOT 


23 


At 10 o’clock at night, on the same day that the pur- 
suers left home, one hundred and fifty miles away, they 
came upon the bluffs of the Ohio river on the Kentucky 
side. They saw the river winding below; it looked like 
a great crooked mirror reflecting the moonlight and scur- 
rying clouds. The lights of Cincinnati seemed like a 
great bunch of fireflies, with here and there a bolder one 
dashing off alone into the hills, or seeking a lonely home 
down the river. As they came near they heard the laugh- 
ing water at the bank’s edge, as it whispered in an un- 
known tongue, the untold secrets of its existence, while 
over its quiet, yet restless sea-seeking bosom came the 
sounds of the city, dulled and made musical by distance. 

The Colonel and his party descended the steep incline 
slowly. They spoke but little, for they were very tired and 
realized that nothing could be done before morning. They 
took passage, on a ferry boat, and at midnight were 
in their rooms in one of the best hotels of Cincinnati, 
and were soon sleeping soundly after their hard ride. 

Col. Burton was up and out on the streets at 7 
o’clock the next morning. He returned at eight and met 
the others of the party just coming down. He told them 
that he had learned nothing but that they would make 
a systematic inquiry after their morning meal. 

Later in the day at a conference the party decided that 
only two should continue the chase, Col. Burton and the 
sheriff. These two took the next train for Columbus. In 
that city they found a clue and pressed on. 

The next authentic news they had of Jim they secured 


24 


THE PATRIOT 


at Mansfield. From information gathered there they be- 
lieved that Jim was headed for a certain college town, 
near Lake Erie, that had become notorious all over the 
United States as a protector of fleeing negroes. Col. Bur- 
ton and the sheriff turned toward this town with all 
haste. The Colonel was very anxious, for he realized 
that unless he was able to take Jim back his enemies 
would try to convict him of the murder. 

When they were within twelve miles of the college 
town they were informed by a man that a negro answer- 
ing their description of Jim had gone by a half hour 
previously, in charge of one of the “under-ground rail- 
way” conveyances. On receiving this information they 
dug their spurs into their horses’ sides and fairly flew 
over the ground. When almost in sight of the town, they 
saw a wagon ahead that was being driven at a furious 
pace, for the driver had caught sight of the pursuers. 
Even with redoubled efforts the Colonel and the sheriff 
were unable to overtake the wagon, but came into town 
in time to see a negro given into the charge of a band 
of students and teachers, just coming out of chapel. 

The Colonel rode up to the outskirts of the crowd, in 
the rear of which he caught sight of Jim, his slave, sur- 
rounded by his protectors. He shouted in a loud voice, 
“Gentlemen, I see my man Jim in the rear. He is an 
escaped slave, and is my property. However, I would not 
have made such a long and tiresome journey to capture 
him, but he has committed a foul murder. You are not 
saving an abused slave but a foul criminal from the gal- 


THE PAT RIOT 


25 


lows. Unless I am able to take this slave Jim back with 
me, because of the peculiar circumstances his tragic deed 
will be fastened upon me by the sympathizing and vin- 
dictive friends of the murdered man.” 

Some of the teachers and students consulted a mo- 
ment after this remarkable declaration. Then a student 
who seemed to be a leader, was pushed forward by his 
class-men, and said, “Sir, you have made about the 
most plausible plea for the return of a slave that we ever 
heard, but we beg to inform you that we think that you 
are lying. Even if the things, you say, are true, and you 
go back there and have to give your life for the mur- 
derer, it will be only a small expiation for the many black 
lives you Southerners have snuffed out by your in- 
iquitous system.” 

The crowd cheered this speech to the echo. Col. Bur- 
ton kept his temper wonderfully well for him, probably 
because he considered it the gravest crisis of his life. 

“Gentlemen,” he said as calmly as he could, “I de- 
sire to call your attention to a clause in the Constitution 
which says 'No person held in service or labor in one 
State, under the laws thereof, escaping into another, shall, 
in consequence of any law or regulation therein, be dis- 
charged from such service or labor, but shall be delivered 
up on claim of the party to whom such service or labor is 
due.’ Now, gentlemen, that is the law of the United 
States. Are you going to obey it ?” 

“We are not. We have a 'higher law’ to rule us,” 
shouted the crowd. 


26 


THE PA TRIOT 


“This ‘higher law’ plea is the essence of chaos in gov- 
ernment,” shouted the Colonel as he made a desperate 
dash into the crowd trying to get hold of Jim. But the 
odds were too great and he failed. 

Later it was learned that that night three students, 
one being the young man that made the reply to the 
Colonel, took Jim and secured a small sail boat near 
Lorain, Ohio, and started to make the journey across the 
great lake to Canada and safety. A squall came up and 
the boat was capsized, Jim and two of the students 
were drowned. The third student, the one who had been 
the leader and spokesman, hung on to the overturned boat 
and was picked up the next morning. This student said 
that the negro gasped as he was sinking, “It is Gawd’s 
jedgment on me fo’ gettin’ massa’ into sech trouble.” 

“ I cannot tell you the rest, Duke,” Rob Burton said to 
me. He always called me Duke. He said that as my 
name was Alva that I must be related to the notorious 
Duke Alva of Spain. The name he gave me in jest has 
clung to me. “I cannot tell you the rest, Duke,” he said, 
“I thought that I could when I began, but I cannot. 
Please say nothing about what I have told you. I hope 
soon that I can tell you all. Duke,” he continued earnest- 
ly, “if there ever comes a hint to you that my life has not 
been upright don’t believe it. So far as I could from my 
youth up I have kept all the commandments of God and of 
my government. But the results that have come about 
because those people broke the laws, fifty odd years ago 
in Oberlin, made me resolve that I will try to have law 


THE PA TRIOT 


37 

enforced. The immediate distress coming from the en- 
forcement of a bad law, cannot compare with the disas- 
trous consequences of breaking a law, I care not under 
what plea it is done. In the words of the great Emanci- 
pator, 'why should there not be a patient confidence in 
the ultimate justice of the people? Is there any better 
or equal hope in the world ?’ He who does this, Duke, is 
the country’s only patriot.” 


i 


CHAPTER II. 

AN EPOCH MAKING SERMON. 

Rob Burton was considered a strong preacher. When 
the professors in the seminary from which he graduated, 
drew near the close of their letters of commendation they 
almost invariably wrote, “He is especially strong in 
the pulpit.” At the beginning of our acquaintance, 
Rob Burton had been preaching only a year, but he had 
well fulfilled this favorite saying of his teachers. I found 
him >to be a wonderful sermon-maker. When he was 
through speaking I always had his sermon plan in my 
mind’s eye. Then in closing, in a few words, he would 
rivet the thought, by mentioning his subject, each di- 
vision, these were generally three, and its relation to the 
subject, and then a few sentences that showed the ap- 
plication. I always carried home something to think 
about. 

I have found that, when a train of rather extraor- 
dinary events come to a community, people are likely to 
want to point out the beginning and the cause. This is 
true of the people of Richton, when one talks with them 
now, about the happenings there during the most thrill- 
ing year in its history. “O the whole thing began on 
April 1 6th, when Rob Burton preached his sermon,” they 
say. The sermon referred to was preached because of 
local conditions and came about as follows. 


28 


THE PA TRIOT 


29 


Richton is a beautifully located village, and has a 
typical American population, being settled by people from 
Massachusetts, about 1801, and as it is a rich section the 
children and grandchildren have remained, filling up the 
valley with people of pure American stock. The village 
nestles at the foot of a shimmering, laughing lake, over 
whose waters a gentle breeze is generally blowing, that 
brushes up tiny wavelets, that catch upon their sides the 
diamond sunbeams of the god of day, and throw them 
out into space to fall upon and gladden some other world. 
Toward the head of the lake the undulating hills become 
rugged, and push forward towering cliffs that overhang 
the water and glower at their images in the depths be- 
low. If, perchance, one is in a boat upon the placid 
waters as he nears the upper shore, the cliffs blot out 
the blue by shoving skyward a thousand feet of rolling 
emerald carpet, and he can see upon the steep sides of 
the hills the dashing brooks that leap and laugh with 
the joy of uncurbed youth. But the waters are not al- 
ways placid, for sometimes, when the wind breaks 
through from the funnel like valley above, the lake is 
lifted out of its calm, then the light water is heaped into 
great waves that fall upon and mark the unscarred sand 
with the foot-prints of an angry Almighty. 

Outwardly this locality was a paradise. Richton, 
however, was not a palace within this paradise. God made 
the hills, and then man came and builded and his archi- 
tecture was crude. To a casual onlooker Richton was 
an ordinary village, but under the crust was meanness, 


30 


THE PATRIOT 


lawlessness and crime. This is probably more or less 
true of all communities, if one can only get under the 
crust. In Richton the bad things were not much thought 
of, for most people live on the surface even in regard to 
their own lives. It takes a crisis for people to know 
themselves as they really are. In Richton, Burton 
brought about this crisis. 

The sermon that produced the sensation was preached 
one Sunday evening in April. Burton had announced 
the Sunday before, that, he would consider on the follow- 
ing Sunday evening their local condition, in respect to 
law enforcement. People, of course, did not know what 
he would say, but from his temperament, they knew that 
it would be something radical, severe, and to the point. 
Every one wanted to hear the sermon, the conservatives, 
the radicals, the respectable and the hoodlums. 

Because of this when Burton arose 'to speak, there 
were at least six hundred people in the commodious old 
village church. He began very quietly, as all great orators 
do. He spoke, for nearly an hour, in his convincing 
way. I will give only the gist of his argument, and as 
nearly as possible in his language. He said, 

“I want to consider with you tonight, friends, ‘The 
Supremacy of Civil Law.’ I have chosen for a text the 
words found in Luke, 20th chapter and 25th verse, ‘Ren- 
der unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s/ 

“How came these words to be spoken? Spies had 
been sent to entrap Jesus into some saying against the 
civil power. They failed. It was innocence versus 


THE PATRIOT 


3i 


iniquity. Innocence won. It was the devil against divin- 
ity. The devil lost. Hypocrisy was pitted against hon- 
esty. Hypocrisy marveled at honesty’s answer, and de- 
parted defeated. Not only at this time, but always, 
Jesus gave unquestioned obedience to the civil power. 
He performed a miracle to get money to pay his taxes. 
He was no tax-dodger. He was a law abider, not once 
or twice, but all through his life. Consequently, at his 
trial, the only way any evidence could be secured against 
him, to show that he had ever questioned Caesar’s rule 
was through false witnesses. Is it not startling to real- 
ize that Jesus would never have been crucified unless he 
had been proven to be a traitor to civil law? Although 
we know the evidence was secured by false testimony, 
yet it is true that Jesus died because he was judged a 
traitor to Caesar. 

“Jesus was an exemplary citizen. His unquestioned 
obedience to civil law is to be followed. In this respect, as 
in all others, he is worthy of emulation by the thief, the 
politician, the statesman, the merchant, the farmer, the 
lawyer, and the preacher. Sad to say all these classes 
have need of reformation along this line. 

“Law, as we ordinarily speak of it, is solely a prod- 
uct of organized life. When we feel like breaking a law 
it is because of our individualism and not because we 
have planned to substitute something better. 

“The great bad things and the great good things, 
of the world, are done by organized power. It is 
organized thievery that we fear; it is only the organized 


3 2 


THE PA TRIOT 


people who will eventually do right; it is the organized 
church that blows the trumpet of success. Because of the 
superior power for good that is found in organization, 
the individual must subordinate himself to the state. He 
must correct its faults from within. He may speak open- 
ly and fiercely against it; he may try to reform it, but 
at the last, unless he has been able to bring about a 
change, he must obey the laws or the state is doomed. 
Individual independence must die or the individuals who 
make up the organized life will dig their own collective 
grave. 

“In these, somewhat desultory, remarks I have sought 
to indicate to you the value of the civil law. The govern- 
ment must be supreme. The citizen must absolutely obey 
every law, big or little or he is an embryo anarchist. If 
the law is unjust, change it. Never ignore or disobey it. 
If the moral law is better than the civil law put it into 
the civil code, but never say that the moral law is to be 
obeyed in preference to the civil, for it is not until a ma- 
jority of our organized life put it into our civil code. 

“In one of our church papers, The Christian World, 
appeared the following article, to which I suppose the 
periodical gave its sanction or it would not have printed 
it. No doubt the citizens of the place mentioned all cried 
amen to the sentiments expressed, and respected citizens 
all over the land approved and applauded. It contained, 
however, a history of one of the most dangerous ele- 
ments that can come into our national life. I quote some 
from the article in question. 


THE PA TRIOT 


33 


“ ‘In defiance of the fugitive slave law — * note three 
words, friends, ' defiance of in defiance of the fugi- 

tive slave law, the population almost to a man threw open 
its doors for the shelter of refugees, and in all those 
days of slavery nearly every home contained from one 
to ten of them. Oberlin was the terminus of several 
underground railways, and slave hunters often sought for 
their property within her borders. They were occasion- 
ally caught by the officers but word was always passed 
from one to another, and citizens and students, number- 
ing sometimes several hundreds, pursued the slave-catch- 
ers, demanded and secured the slaves. Many were the 
ruses for detaining the slave-hunters, or putting them on 
the wrong track. One man, Mr. Smith, suspected a 
neighbor of treachery and resolved to test him. “Mr. 
White,” said he one day, when he happened not to have 
any slaves on his premises, “a couple of darkies came to 
my place last night and I propose to defend them. Now, 
if the officers come they will have to pass your place first, 
and I shall be much obliged to you if you will at least 
send me word of their coming.” The officers came and 
searched the house and then Mr. Smith admitted that 
they were in the barn, and went to the barn with the 
officers and said, ‘there they are, there are the darkies/ 
he explained, pointing to a couple of black lambs.” 

“Friends,” continued Burton passionately, “that ar- 
ticle contains a history of the breaking of law, deception 
in words and actions. It contains the history of a dis- 
honored government, and because our government is of 


34 


THE PA TRIOT 


the people, I believe that it dishonors God. Yet people 
all over the land applaud when law is broken. It is more 
that dishonorable, it is national suicide. 

“Why will we be so short-sighted? The salvation of 
all is forgotten or ignored in the gratification of some 
whimsical individual wish. The state is divine, because 
the safety of the race depends upon its expression of 
righteousness. It will never express righteousness per- 
fectly, or anywhere near it, until every one ceases putting 
the individual opinion, even though it is called moral or 
higher law above the civil code. Endure the wrong and 
do not make an excuse for ignoring them by some flimsy 
higher law plea. It is then that you will be willing to 
throw yourself into the dirty pool of politics and try 
to make it clear and wholesome.” 

Then Burton became calmer and continued quietly, 
“We have in Ricfoton a local liquor prohibitory law. It 
is broken every day. I do not believe in the law, as far 
as I am personally concerned. To me it does not seem to 
be the best or most expedient. But I am going to obey it 
and do what I can to have it enforced. There are men, 
here this evening, who have voted for this law for years, 
who have said to me when I have spoken to them, ‘do 
not push the matter at present; wait until after the fall 
election/ When fall election is passed it will be spring 
election to wait for. We cannot wait. The law is there 
and must be obeyed now. It does not say wait until 
some more convenient day. I, if I am true to my con- 
victions, must do what I can to have it obeyed, or I feel 


THE PATRIOT 


35 

as if I would be a traitor to my country, nothing more or 
less than a respectable anarchist. 

“Our government because it is of the people is di- 
vine. It is sacred. It is a part of God’s plan for the re- 
demption of mankind. Long enough have we thought 
that not to have anything to do with the world meant 
not to have anything to do with the state. As members 
of the church we must lead men to safety, as members 
of the state we must drive men to do right. Being men, 
and not gods, if we subordinate the church or the state, 
by all means let it be the church. If we do not feel to 
be true let us work and work, let us plan and plan, let 
us obey and obey until it is true that the ‘ Vox populi, vox 
Dei! ” 

The sermon when finished had created a stir. Men 
looked at one another in surprise. The rowdies went out 
of the church feeling as if a man was on their trail who 
would not give up until he had tracked them to their 
lair. 

Squire Colter, a trustee of the church, and one 
of the solid men of the community, was incensed. He was 
a graduate of Oberlin College. He had been there at 
the time so many slaves had been aided in their efforts 
to escape. He had been an active participant in many of 
those stirring scenes, for he had been an abolitionist of 
the most violent sort. He also believed in their local pro- 
hibitory law, and had voted for it for many years. He 
had advised some one, not Burton, not to try to enforce 
the law just at present. These facts were not known to 


36 


THE PATRIOT 


Burton, but if he had known they would not have af- 
fected his preaching. The Squire thought that Burton 
knew and he considered the sermon a personal attack. 
He decided that he would remain and have a little talk 
with his pastor after the service. With this in view he 
told Mrs. Colter, Charles, his six-foot son, and Mary, 
his daughter, to go out and get into the carriage, that he 
would be out in a few moments. The Colters lived about 
a mile out of the village, and always drove to service. 
Mary, however, did not go out with her mother and 
brother, but remained with her father. 

Burton was busy with some papers and did not come 
down, out of the pulpit, until nearly every one had gone. 
As he came down he was met by the Squire, who said, as 
Burton shook hands, “Mr. Burton, I consider your ser- 
mon this evening to be full of nonsense. I think that you 
are excusable on most points because of your inexperience 
and youth. However, I wish to tell you that I do not 
believe that a preacher should indulge in personalities 
from the pulpit. It is cowardly. If you want my sup- 
port in the future you will not speak in such a way as 
to make me the cynosure of all eyes. ,, The Squire was 
noted for his gruff and frank language, and this was a 
fair sample. 

“Squire,” replied Burton, “you are greatly mistaken if 
you think that I was in any way referring to you. As 
you know, I am a comparatively newcomer to Richton 
and have no knowledge of your personal history.” 


THE PA TRIOT 


37 


“Well, all I have to say,” replied the Squire gruffly, 
“is that you must be careful in the future.” 

' “I" will,” Burton said with a smile, “I will be careful 
to try and please my Master.” 

The Squire turned sharply at this meaning reply and 
walked out, but Mary remained. Mary was a fine girl. 
She was not a great beauty, but her lustrous dark eyes 
would have made homely features look handsome, and 
she was not homely by any means. It was not so much 
her face as her manner that made her beloved by nearly 
every one. She had many suitors, but so far all had 
been quietly held at a distance. She and Burton were al- 
ready good friends. They had played tennis, they had 
been in a row boat on the lake, and they had gone on 
picnics together. She was a girl who did her own think- 
ing, and now she put out her hand to Burton and said, 

“Mr. Burton, I feel as if you spoke the truth in your 
sermon tonight. You shall have my sympathy and what 
co-operation a poor weak woman can give.” 

As she spoke their eyes met and the look that passed 
was one that indicated that jolly good friendship would 
soon become something deeper and sweeter. Mary con- 
tinued, as she withdrew her hand from a very fervent 
hand-clasp, “Mr. Burton,” she said, “did you know that 
last year I graduated from Oberlin, father’s alma 
mater?” 

As Burton gasped out, “no,” she continued with a 
smile, “The spirit of Oberlin today is one of the noblest 
and best in the world, and what I know of her history, 


38 


THE PA TRIOT 


I 'believe the things that they did there for escaping 
slaves, were done from hearts full of love, but you proved 
to me tonight it was a sad mistake to break the law.” 

‘They were no doubt doing things for love of the 
slaves,” Burton answered, “but I know one thing of her 
early history that I can never forgive, I am afraid. If I 
knew personally any one who had a part in that trans- 
action I would try not, but I know that I should hate 
him and all that was his.” 

“O not so tragic, Mr. Burton,” Mary laughingly said 
as she turned and hastened out of the church in reply to 
repeated summons from her father. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE ROWDIES MAKE A PLOT. 


Fred Seton was, one of many young men, in the au- 
dience the Sunday night of the sermon. He was one of 
Burton's standbys and liked and believed in his sermons, 
especially that one. He waited after church to walk 
home with Burton as he wished to have a talk about help- 
ing to get rid of the hoodlums and to stop law breaking. 
When Burton stepped out of the church door Fred was 
there and linked arms with him and they went down the 
street chatting quietly. When they reached Mrs. Men- 
son's where Burton boarded and had his study Fred was 
invited in. 

I also had a room at Mrs. Menson’s but had come 
home alone, as I saw Burton was busy after church. 
When the two came in Burton knocked at my door, then 
opened it and said, “Hello, Duke, you home? Come in, 
Fred is here, let us have a little chat." 

“All right, Rob," I replied, “I will be in as soon as 
I can get my pipe filled." 

I was a few minutes finding things as I had not 
lighted a lamp. When I had found everything I saun- 
tered in just as Fred was saying, 

“How do you propose to get at the matter of the 
violation of the law, Mr. Burton?" 

Burton waved me to a chair as he answered, “You 


39 


40 


THE PA TRIOT 


know that it is a common report that the rowdies have 
been meeting on Friday evenings or nights for a carousal 
and cock fights. I rather think that their meetings are 
held in the old saw mill, although I cannot say for cer- 
tain. Now, if we can get some one to go who will see 
the whole show and report, I think that we will be able to 
get a conviction.” 

“Who do you think will go/' Fred asked. 

“It will be an honor for any one,” Burton replied, “but 
I suppose there are few that would look upon it in such 
a light. Because of this I have decided that I will go 
myself.” 

“I am going with you,” Fred said eagerly. 

Burton smiled at Fred’s enthusiasm as he replied, “Let 
me think it over tonight and I will let you know, to- 
morrow, what I consider best in the matter. You can 
come up to see me when you drive down for the mail.” 

“All right,” Fred said as he rose to go, “I must get 
home now, mother never goes to sleep until I am safely 
in, and it is getting late and I have three miles to drive.” 

Burton went with him to the door and gave him an 
affectionate pat on the back as they parted with hearty 
“good nights.” 

I had sat quietly smoking while Fred was there and 
had not joined in the conversation. As Burton came 
back and sat down he said, “Duke, wake up, what are 
you thinking about, any way? You sit there blinking 
like a wise old owl. I don’t believe that you are think- 
ing at all, a man never thinks when he smokes.” 


THE PA TRIOT 


4i 


'‘Well/’ I replied, “you had better put on your think- 
ing cap for I am sure that you have mapped out a cam- 
paign that will keep you hustling. However, I wish you 
good luck in everything, except with Mary Colter. I 
give you fair warning, Rob, if you get her you have got 
to ‘make hay while the sun shines/ for I am in the race 
and I consider that I have good chances.” 

“Let us not discuss Miss Colter now, Duke,” Burton 
said a little wearily, I thought, “as far as I am concerned 
I am afraid that Squire Colter will put a stop to my as- 
pirations along that line if I had any.” 

“All right,” I replied, “I don’t want to discuss law and 
order tonight so I am going to bed. Good night, Rob, 
pleasant dreams.” 

“Good night, Duke,” Burton replied absent-mindedly 
as I went out and closed the door, for I saw that my 
reference to Mary Colter had aroused in him some un- 
pleasant recollection. I had not then learned of the way 
Squire Colter talked to him after church. 

After Fred left that night he went down the street, 
which was deserted, turned the corner, and walked up 
a block to the church. He was after his horse which 
he had left under the sheds. The church had quite a num- 
ber of members who lived out in the country, and they 
had built large sheds for the accommodation of their 
teams. Fred went back quietly to where Sam was tied, 
and was greeted with a low neigh. As he began to untie 
Sam, he heard some one talking in low tones, just back 


42 


THE PA TRIOT 


of the sheds. A voice said, “Did you hear a horse neigh 
just now?” 

Then a gruffer voice answered, “No, you ninny, what 
is the matter with you? You are getting as nervous as 
an old woman. I suppose that little Jack in the Pulpit 
scared you tonight. But then, you are not used to going 
to church like I am. I go to every funeral that comes 
my way.” 

“O shut up,” the first speaker replied, “and get to 
work and get a hole into this keg. The rest of the boys 
will be along pretty soon and then Bill Carter will un- 
fold his scheme whatever it is.” 

Sam had now become restless again and was making 
some noise, but Fred soon quieted him by rubbing his 
nose and giving him small bits of an apple, he had in 
his pocket. The two men behind the sheds were so busy 
talking 'that they noticed nothing. 

When Fred had Sam quiet he secured a position 
where he could peep through and hear to better advan- 
tage. From this point he saw that more men were, com- 
ing and that they were drinking beer out of old cups 
and cans. 

Bill Carter seemed to be the leader of the rowdies. 
Whenever he made a joke all would laugh heartily, but 
not loudly. Bill had received four or five hundred dollars, 
about a week before, by the death of a distant relative, 
and now he was quite popular. He was celebrating by 
buying “the boys” a keg of beer. It was his treat, he 
said. Bill put up the money and the crowd paid him 


THE PA TRIOT 


43 


with their guffaws whenever he made a joke. Bill was 
satisfied with the compensation. He wanted to get solid 
with the boys for he had some political ambitions. 

“Say fellows,” began Jim Blake, a heavy set man with 
three or four days’ growth of a black beard, “what did 
you think of the parson’s discourse this evening. He kind 
o’ rubbed it into the natives, eh ?.” 

“I should smile,” answered a young fellow who had 
not yet reached his majority, “but I tell you there is 
nothing to fear from these pious parsons. Now, that stuff 
he was giving us was hot air all right, but you will find 
that is the end of it. He has tooted his little horn and 
we will now call it quits.” 

“Give us a rest, Willie,” said Jim, “we know that you 
are about to cut your wisdom teeth, but your gems of 
knowledge are a little too heavy. They weigh on a man’s 
gray matter like a ton of bricks. Give us something light 
and airy, something that corresponds with this gay and 
festive occasion.” 

“The thing that made me quiver with rage,” chimed 
in Bill Carter with a drawl, “in the right reverend’s ebul- 
lition 'this evening was not the fact that he gave you 
rowdies and hoodlums such hard knocks, you deserve 
them, crawling around in alleys and behind sheds to suck 
away at old tomato cans and rusty cups filled with stale 
beer. You deserve hard knocks, I say, but the thing that 
made my wan cheek flush with righteous indignation 
was the whack he gave us respectable men of the com- 
munity. Now there’s Squire Colter and myself, we have 


44 


THE PA TRIOT 


about the same ideas on most all questions. We have 
voted for the same measures for years, but we haven’t 
seen the expediency of enforcing every fool law that we 
have voted for. Now this young reverend takes this op- 
portunity to slap us in the face. We can’t stand any 
monkey work like that. I saw the Squire stop and talk 
with him after the meeting, and I bet he £old him a few 
cold facts.” 

The crowd laughed at this speech of Bill’s, for he 
was host. They were not certain whether he was poking 
fun at them, or being sarcastic in regard to himself, or 
whether he was taking a fling at Squire Colter and others. 
What did they care? “We have the beer, haven’t we?” 
they thought to themselves. 

Bill Carter was a pettifogger and peanut politician of 
Richton. He was an educated man, and came from one 
of the best families in the valley, but he had been on 
the downward grade for many years and was now a hard 
drinker. He was sharp, though, and had deceived such 
men as Squire Colter, who did not know his true char- 
acter and they had considerable confidence in him. Row- 
dies liked him for he had influence and had gotten them 
out of a good many scrapes. 

After the crowd had chuckled over Bill’s speech for 
awhile Jim Blake said, “Do you suppose, fellows, that 
this preacher will do anything? Do you think that he 
will try to stop these drinking bouts of ours, especially 
the good times that we have been having for the last few 
months with our cock fights ?” 


THE PAT RIOT 


45 


“You can put me down for the phophecy,” said the 
garrulous young fellow called Willie, as he emerged from 
a tomato can, “that nothing ever comes of it. He’s 
through.” 

“That’s my opinion,” commented a man who had not 
spoken before. “The people who make up his congrega- 
tion will not permit any sensational development. There 
are too many young people from the respectable element, 
so-called, who take part in these things for the people to 
want them aired. Now 'there’s Charlie Colter, the Squire’s 
hopeful, we all know that Charlie is getting to be a regu- 
lar attendant. I rather suspect that the Squire has some 
inkling that Charlie is up to some capers. So even though 
the preacher has 'the nerve to try and carry out his con- 
victions, his church will bring such pressure to bear upon 
him that he will not dare to make a move. I know 
preachers, they don’t dare breathe unless their churches 
give them permission.” 

“Gentlemen,” said Bill, with his usual drawl, “you 
cannot comprehend the pain that it gives me to differ 
from these exceedingly wise remarks of yours, but, if 
I am true to my convictions, I must present an entirely 
different verdict. That preacher that you heard tonight, 
— take it for granted that gentlemen of your caliber and 
standing in the community always attend church — I say 
this preacher, Burton, is no quitter. He will be on deck 
from this time forth, and don’t you prognosticate anything 
else.” Bill always became very precise and learned when 
he had a little liquor. He continued with his cynical 


46 


THE PATRIOT 


drawl, “Yes, this preacher will he on deck, and if the 
old ship sinks, he will grab a life-preserver, and if the 
life-preserver disappears you can rest assured that he 
will kick as long as there is any water to swim in. I’ve 
sized the gentleman up, and this community is going to 
have war from now on. Now you fellows can take which- 
ever side you desire. As for me and my little pile and my 
influence, I’m against the preacher.” 

“All right, Bill,” chorused the crowd as Bill ceased 
speaking, “we are with you if you really think there’s 
going to be a fracas.” 

“Very well,” replied Bill, “we had better plan a little 
then. We don’t want to meet the enemy too soon. Now 
I rather think that the parson is on to the fact that we 
have been meeting Friday nights, and I would not be 
surprised if he would be present at our next meeting 
for innocent amusement, and try to kick up a rumpus. He 
may bring some officers if he can find any one who de- 
sires to gain immortal fame by enforcing law. Now I 
think that we had better change our night of meeting 
(Fred almost held his breath as he listened) say, let us 
meet tomorrow night at ten o’clock sharp and all be pres- 
ent, for a fellow from the hollow is going to come down 
with his fighting cock that made such a record, and Jim 
Blake will match his against it. It will be a little frolic 
worth seeing. We will have something a little more 
appetizing than beer.” 

“Where will the meeting be, Bill,” asked some one. 


THE PA TR10T 


47 


“Why, the same old place, of course, you gump, the 
old saw mill,” Bill replied. (Fred breathed easier.) 

“Now be sure and get ithe news around among the 
boys,” admonished Bill. “I will let Charlie Colter know 
of it myself. He is getting to be a high-flyer and we 
want to keep the good old deacons and pious constituency 
mixed up as much as possible.” 

As the beer was now all gone the crowd began re- 
luctantly to disperse. 

After all was quiet Fred backed Sam out, as he prom- 
ised him an extra quart of oats for being so quiet. When 
he drove into the home yard he looked at his watch and 
saw that it was a little after twelve o’clock. He called 
quietly to his mother, whom he saw at an open win- 
dow upstairs, that everything was all right, and that 
he would explain his late arrival in the morning. 


CHAPTER IV. 

PREPARATIONS FOR THE SAW MILL GATHERING. 

Fred was up bright and early the next morning and 
went whistling about his work with the gladness of youth. 
When all the chores were done he went in to breakfast. 
The hired man and Fred’s father began to chaff him for 
being out so late. They wanted to know if he was keep- 
ing late hours so as to have more time to coax the down 
on his upper lip into a mustache, or if he was about to 
break away from his mother’s apron strings and tie him- 
self to some younger ones. Fred bore the chaffing well 
and only waited until the hired man departed with a 
last sally, and then he told his father and mother his 
experience of the night before. Their advice was that he 
go, at once, and tell Burton all that he had heard. 

“But, Fred,” his mother added, “I do hope that you 
will keep out of the whole thing. You are too young to 
be of any account.” 

This view of the case rather nettled Fred, and he 
said, “Why, mother, when I was talking with Mr. Bur- 
ton last evening he listened attentively to all that I had 
to say and was very considerate of my opinions.” 

“Yes, I have no doubt,” his mother replied, “but if he 
needs any help in this matter, you had better let older 
heads and muscles help him.” 

“Mother,” said Mr. Seton, “I have considerable con- 
48 


THE PA TRIOT 


49 


fidence in Mr. Burton’s judgment, and I am sure that he 
will do the wise thing. If he wants Fred, why let him 

go” 

Fred said quickly, “All right, father, we will let it 
go just as Mr. Burton decides.” 

Mrs. Seton smiled at her son’s eagerness, as she looked 
proudly at him, as he stood upright in his young man- 
hood. She nodded her acquiescence to Mr. Seton’s re- 
marks, and Fred hastened out to hitch up Sam to ride 
to Richton. 

He was delayed, however, by the cattle breaking 
through the fence in the lower pasture. When they had 
rounded them all up it was so near noon that he de- 
cided that he would wait until after dinner. 

That same morning Mary Colter had driven into 
Richton, as she wanted to mail a letter. It was an in- 
vitation to a school friend to spend a month with her 
on the old farm. They had graduated in the same class. 

As she was coming out of the Post Office she met 
Burton. With a smile she wished him “good morning.” 
He stopped, and said, “Well, I am surprised to see you 
in the village so early. But, then, you are a farmer maid 
and have no doubt been up many hours, while I have just 
had breakfast.” 

“Indeed, Mr. Burton,” Mary said, “you are right. I 
was up at five o’clock and I have helped with the break- 
fast dishes, and I have taken care of milk and numerous 
other things. It goes a little hard after one has been in 
school so long, where we never rose before seven o’clock.” 


5o 


THE PA TRIOT 


'‘You have certainly been hustling/' replied Burton, 
“but 'then you have been amply paid for your efforts.” 

“In what way?” Mary asked. 

“By the beautiful roses in your cheeks and the dia- 
monds in your eyes,” said Burton with a merry laugh. 
At this Mary’s cheeks became still rosier, but it was a 
flush of pleasure and not one of anger. 

She said, “Thank you, Mr. Burton, but good-bye, I 
must hurry home. There is always something to be done 
at the farm, and mouther has mapped out a good day’s 
work, this is Monday, you know.” 

“By the way, Miss Colter,” Burton said, “I want to 
go out to Sterlings and get back before dinner. May I 
ride as far as your place with you ? It will save me hitch- 
ing up my horse. Johnny Sterling is very sick and I must 
see him. Will you take me ?” 

“Certainly,” she answered, “if you are not afraid to 
ride behind this colt I am driving. He was real skittish 
when I came over.” 

“O you can’t scare me out,” replied Burton, “1 will 
trust myself to your driving at any time.” 

“What is that?” Mary asked, “a bit of sarcasm?” 

“No, it is a solemn fact under every conceivable cir- 
cumstance,” said Burton, looking meaningly into her 
eyes. Mary declined to see his meaning but could not 
help a quick blush as she replied : 

“I never knew before that my driving was such a sad 
affair.” 

“Who said it was sad?” he asked. 


THE PA TRIOT 


5i 


“Why, you said it was solemn, and all solemn things 
are sad,” she answered. 

“Well,” he said contentedly, “it is a solemn sadness 
that I enjoy.” 

Thus, in the mile drive to the Colter homestead, they 
chatted continually, and bantered each other in the cordial 
way that good friends may and yet not offend. 

As they drove up to the gate, that opened into a lane 
leading for a hundred yards up to the large farm house, 
they saw Charlie plowing in a nearby field. Two men 
were just leaving him, and Charlie was leaning on the 
plow handles. He shouted to the men as they climbed 
over the fence, “All right, I’ll be on hand !” His words 
reached Burton and Mary. 

“Who are those men talking to Charlie?” asked Mary. 

“I’m not sure,” replied Burton, “but they look to me 
like Jim Blake and Bill Carter.” 

“I wonder,” mused Mary, “what business they can 
have with Charlie?” 

“O they have probably just stopped for a little chat, 
and are now going away and have thought of something 
further to say, and Charlie is shouting 'all right’ to them.” 

“Well, I hope all is right,” said Mary, “but I have 
been a little worried about Charlie lately. He has been 
out a great deal of nights and a number of times I have 
seen him talking to such fellows as Jim Blake and that 
refined scoundrel Bill Carter. I believe that he is a 
scoundrel, although father has great confidence in him 


52 


THE PA TRIOT 


for he is a smooth talker. Father says that Bill is a good 
‘party man/ whatever that may mean.” 

“I do not believe that Charlie is in any badness,” Bur- 
ton said. “Of course he is a young fellow and full of life, 
and we must try to get his energies turned into good 
channels. However, you know more about him than I 
do ; you know he has been home from school only a couple 
of months. Why did he come home in the middle of the 
school year?” 

“That is just the trouble, Mr. Burton,” Mary an- 
swered. “Please do not say anything about it, but Charlie 
was sent home because he was too wild. The president 
wrote father that Charlie had done nothing really bad, 
but that he persisted in breaking so many rules and de- 
voting himself entirely to athletics, and no study, that 
he thought a year at home would probably settle him 
down to the real business of life. Father is provoked at 
the president, and says that Charlie is all right, that he 
was doing nothing harmful, and that the school ought not 
to have so many petty rules. Father and mother idolize 
Charlie and he is very dear to me, and I suppose that we 
have spoiled him. I want to ask of you a special favor, 
Mr. Burton, that is, to cultivate Charlie’s acquaintance. 
I know a man of your character and jovial disposition 
can do much for him.” 

As she asked this she looked at Burton, and he saw 
that her eyes were full of anxious tears for her brother, 
whom she feared was inclined to be wild. 

“Thank you, Mary,” Burton said, using her Christian 



THE P AT RIOT 


53 


name unconsciously, “I feel greatly honored by the con- 
fidence you have in my powers for good. I will do all 
that I can to keep Charlie in the right way. Please re- 
member me kindly to your father and mother. Now I 
must hurry on to Sterlings or I will be late getting back 
to dinner, and then Mrs. Menson will be provoked.” 

Burton went on his way happy. He now realized that 
Mary meant much to his life. He began to plan where 
and when he would ask her the all-important question. 
There was never a man that proposed to woman who had 
not planned out the way he would carry out the whole 
business, although he usually forgets his plan at the crit- 
ical period. As Burton walked along he argued the 
whole thing over. “Did Mary care for him? Yes, of 
course she did,” he told himself, “no woman ever con- 
fides a family secret to a man, as she had told him about 
Charlie, without having more than ordinary interest in 
the confidant. But then, I am her pastor.” He smiled 
as he realized that he had spoken his thought aloud. He 
finally decided that he was going to find out his fate, just 
as soon as good opportunity presented itself, and he deter- 
mined to see that there was an opportunity. 

After Burton left Mary she drove up to the house and 
tied the horse, and was just starting to go inside when 
she saw Charlie coming to get a drink. Charlie was a 
handsome young fellow, about twenty-one years old. 
His coarse farm clothes could not hide his graceful figure. 
His face was not a bad one, but evidently he was a happy- 


54 


THE PA TRIOT 


go-lucky fellow, and had not as yet taken hold of life’s 
problems. He greeted his sister with a merry, 

“Hello, Sis, where have you been? Wasn’t that Mr. 
Burton that was in the buggy with you?” 

“Yes,” she answered, “Mr. Burton is going up to see 
Johnny Sterling, and he rode this far with me.” 

“Now, look here, sister mine,” Charles said teasingly, 
“you are very indiscreet. You will wreck Mr. Burton’s 
influence in this community. It is not fitting that a young 
unmarried man who is pastor should single out any one 
young lady and pay her any marked attention. Now, 
Mary, I hope that you will be more careful in the future.” 

“O, Charlie, please do not talk that way.” 

“Mary, Mary, why so serious ?” laughed Charlie. 
“Go in and win. I am sure that all the other girls have 
their caps set for him, and the Colter family must not 
be left in the race.” 

“Who said that I wanted to win him?” Mary asked 
almost in tears. She could not bear the thought that any 
one might be saying that she was boldly trying to win 
any man’s favor. 

Charlie did not answer but turned back to the field, 
laughing as he went. He stopped when Mary called, 
“Charlie, who were those men you were talking to as I 
drove up?” 

“Jim Blake and Bill Carter,” Charlie replied, shortly, 
as he started on. 

“Why does Bill Carter come around here to see you 
so often ?” Mary urged. 


THE PATRIOT 


55 


Charlie refused to answer this last question and 
walked sullenly on muttering to himself. Mary, when 
she saw his actions, went into the house feeling as though 
everything was not quite right, and that Charlie was get- 
ting into some kind of mischief. She had no idea, though, 
what it was. 

Burton saw the sick boy and returned in time for din- 
ner, much to Mrs. Menson’s satisfaction, and ate heartily, 
which made her still more satisfied, for she prided herself 
on her cooking ability. After dinner Burton had just 
gone into his study when Fred Seton drove up. He then 
remembered his engagement with Fred. He opened the 
window and called : 

“Come right up to the study, Fred. Don’t stop to 
knock.” 

Fred tied Sam and then ran lightly up the stairs. 
When he came in Burton saw that he was considerably 
excited, for he began immediately to tell his story. 

“Mr. Burton,” he said, “I heard something in the 
church sheds last night that will interest you a great 
deal.” 

“Well, out with it, Fred,” said Burton. 

Then Fred told what he had heard, closing with these 
words: “They will meet for drinking and for a cock 
fight tonight at ten o’clock.” 

“Is that so?” said Burton with great interest. “Then 
I will have to be getting ready to go, although I do not 
think there will be much preparation to make. You said 
that Bill Carter was the leader of the rowdies? I always 


56 


THE PA TRIOT 


surmised that Bill was a hard drinker and an unscrupul- 
ous lawyer, but I had no idea that he had gotten as low as 
this you tell me indicates.” 

“Yes, he is getting down to the bottom,” answered 
Fred. “Father says he is what is known as a periodical 
drinker. He stays sober for some little time and then he 
has a regular siege of a debauch. But the periods be- 
tween are getting shorter and shorter, and some last 
debauch will end him some of these days. I believe that 
sober or drunk that he was always a shark. Notwith- 
standing all that he has done he has always been able to 
fool a good many here, and some of our best citizens 
think that he is all right, except that he drinks a little 
too much at times.” 

“It is too bad,” Burton replied, “for he is a man who 
is evidently brighter than the average. If his talents 
could only be turned into good channels he could do 
great good in the world. But then, as it has often been 
said, an educated villain is the worst kind, so we must 
be all the more careful and watchful.” 

“Mr. Burton,” asked Fred, “are you going to let me 
go with you tonight ?” 

“I think not, Fred.” As Burton said this Fred’s 
countenance looked forlorn. “I think that I had better 
go entirely alone the first time and give them a warning, 
and then if these carousals are stopped, we can let the 
matter rest, but if they are continued, then I must act 
decisively.” 

“I believe,” said Fred, “that you will be surprised at 


THE PA TRIOT 


57 


some of the people that you will find there tonight. These 
things permeate more of the life of the community than 
I believed possible. Now I must be on my way home to 
work, for we are behind, as farmers always are.” 

After supper Burton and I were chatting in his room 
when some one knocked. Mrs. Menson went to the door 
and soon we heard her direct the visitor to Burton’s 
study. In a moment there was a rap, and when Burton 
opened his door we saw good old Deacon Reid. Deacon 
Reid was one of the sturdy old settlers of Richton Valley. 
He was probably the wealthiest farmer there unless 
Squire Colter had more. The deacon was conscientious, 
wise, reliable and aggressive for righteousness. If Bur- 
ton had thought of any person since he had started his 
crusade for law enforcement, that one was probably 
Deacon Reid. Burton had probably said to himself, ”1 
know of one that I can tie to who will help me do the 
right and lawful thing, and that is my good old Deacon 
Reid.” 

As the deacon came in, I arose and went to my own 
room. I learned the purpose of his visit from Burton 
afterward. 

Deacon Reid extended his hand as he came in and 
said, “Pastor, I came up this evening to bid you God- 
speed in your campaign for the sanctity of the civil law. 
I may differ with you in some minor details but in the 
main features of the sacredness of the law, I am with 
you. The railroad presidents, the oil magnates, the coal 
barons of our country are the greatest anarchists that we 


58 


THE PA TRIOT 


have. We are not much surprised when we see law 
breakers in our cities, where there is so much ignorant 
foreign population, but in this community, typical Amer- 
ican, it is also getting a direful hold. There is hardly a 
man but who will break law under some flimsy excuse. 
The youth are losing respect for all law, even here, far 
away from the busy centers. The examples that men of 
wealth and power are setting are having the direst influ- 
ence. It is our nation’s doom, unless we can make a 
change. I am with you to help you enforce every law big 
or little.” 

“I am sure I thank you, deacon,” said Burton. “I feel 
just as if my nation was in the greatest of peril. I would 
fear less danger were a fleet of ten thousand ships in 
sight off our shores, with hostile intent. Many of the 
young men, many of the mature men would then fly to 
their country’s defense, but this insidious foe of anarchy, 
born in the hearts of such men as Rockefeller, has gotten 
into all communities. Maybe I am wrong, I pray God 
I am, and when it comes to the test in this village that its 
citizens will stand for the government.” 

“I hope so, I hope so,” murmured the deacon. “But 
I am afraid. This community has in it more toughs than 
I have ever seen before. It means that there is a laxity 
of conviction on the part of the respectable element. 
When you go to look into this matter, pastor, you will 
take a crowd.” 

“I believe not, Deacon, at least not the first time,” 
Burton replied. 


THE PA TRIOT 


59 


“They are dangerous, when they are full of bad 
whiskey,” warned the deacon. 

“I believe that I will go alone any way,” reiterated 
Burton. 

“All right,” said the deacon with a twinkle in his eyes, 
for if there is one thing an old man admires in a young 
man it is courage. Then the deacon bade Burton good 
night and went home. 

It was now after eight o’clock and Burton began to 
get ready to go, for he wished to be early. As he was 
getting ready I sauntered in, pipe in hand. “Rob,” I said, 
“I am going with you.” 

“No, you’re not, Duke. You stay here and smoke 
and dream. I don’t want you,” Burton answered. 

“Well, you’re frank about the matter, any way,” I 
said. “If you are not home by one o’clock I will certainly 
get a crowd and search for you. Now look here, Rob, 
these fellows are dangerous when half-drunk, you had 
better take my revolver.” 

“Duke,” he said, turning on me like a flash, “no min- 
ister or any other man needs a weapon when he goes into 
the battle for the right.” 

Then he turned and went downstairs and out the back 
door, down a few steps, jumped over the fence, and in 
the darkness turned his face and footsteps toward the old 
saw mill. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE FIGHT IN THE OLD SAW MILL. 

Burton reached the old saw mill about half past eight 
o'clock. He thought that he was early enough to be 
ahead of all comers, for if Fred had heard correctly the 
hour of meeting would be ten o’clock. He went up slowly 
and cautiously and was surprised to hear voices inside. 
He crawled up the bank of the creek, until he came to 
an opening in the side of the mill, a kind of rude window, 
but glass and sashes had long since disappeared. He 
saw dimly two men lying inside, smoking. It was too 
dark for him to recognize them. He heard one say, and 
in this way learned why they had come so early, “Bill 
Carter seems to be a little uneasy, sending us down here 
so early to keep guard. I don’t believe that any one 
would try to find us out.” 

“No,” replied the other, “you can bet your life no 
one will be prowling around, but I’d just as soon lie here 
and smoke as anywhere. Who is that fellow that is going 
to bring down his roosters to fight Jim Blake’s ?” 

“Don’t know,” answered his companion. “Some new 
fellow that has come to live up at the head of the lake. 
They say that he has quite a wad, and that he will bet 
it all on his fighting cock. I’m going to stick by local 
talent and bet on Jim’s. Jim’s is a dandy, I tell you.” 

60 


THE PATRIOT 


61 


“What time is it?” growled the other fellow. “It 
seems to me that ten o’clock will never come.” 

One of the two struck a match and looked at his 
watch. “Why, it isn’t nine o’clock yet. Let’s crawl down 
and stretch our legs a little and listen and see if we can 
hear any one coming.” 

They then went down a ladder into the lower part of 
the mill. This was Burton’s opportunity. He jumped 
quickly through the old window and stepped softly and 
quietly across the upper room to a pile of old machinery 
and hid himself. 

The old saw mill, since it had not been used for some 
years, had had the partitions torn out and was now prac- 
tically one large room, about forty feet long and thirty 
feet wide. It had, however, been built on the side of the 
creek bank. One-half of the floor, — the floor was noth- 
ing but the bare ground, — was on the bank that had been 
leveled off, the other half was ten feet lower, with the 
creek running just outside the building. An old ladder 
had been used to go from one floor to the other. 

Burton had crawled into the upper half. This was 
the part in which they had fixed the pit for the fighting 
cocks to combat in. From the inner edge of the upper 
floor to the joist that supported the roof on the lower 
side of the building, they had placed scantlings and on 
these they had nailed boards. In this way they had made 
rude seats, something like circus seats. The seats were 
above the lower part of the saw mill floor, all the way 
from ten to sixteen feet from the ground. This made a 


62 


THE PA TRIOT 


rude ampitheater, only the seats went but half way around 
the pit in the foreground. On these seats the crowd sat 
to watch the cock fights. 

The two young fellows returned a moment after Bur- 
ton had hidden himself. They were grumbling because 
no one had come, as yet, and because they had been 
selected to do the watching. They sat down and dis- 
cussed various questions for a time. Again they looked 
impatiently at the watch, and found it to be a quarter 
after nine. 

Suddenly one said, “Hark !” They listened a moment, 
and then the same fellow continued, “Some of the fellows 
are coming; I can hear them talking.” This one arose 
and climbed down the ladder to the door. Soon he re- 
turned and three others were with him, one was Bill 
Carter. He immediately assumed the leadership. “Now, 
boys,” he said on coming in, “get those old blankets and 
cover up every opening. Hang one over that old window 
there, Hank. We must not let a ray of light get out any 
chinks. Say, Hank, you fellows kept a good watch, did 
you?” 

“Of course,” replied Hank. “We got here about 
eight o’clock and we heard no one about until you came.” 

“I’m afraid there is something doing by that divine,” 
continued Bill, “or else the fellow says his ‘lay me down 
to sleep’ and goes to bed awful early. I was up watch- 
ing around some, and he blew out his light a little after 
eight o’clock. But I guess that he is now sleeping peace- 


THE PATRIOT 63 

fully. Pleasant dreams, parson, while we enjoy our- 
selves in legitimate pleasure.” 

Burton smiled as he heard himself thus addressed, 
and thought that Bill would think that possibly his own 
pleasant anticipations had turned into a horrible night- 
mare before many hours passed. 

The men and young fellows were now arriving, some 
in groups of three or four, and some singly. Burton was 
greatly surprised and worried when Charlie Colter came 
in. Charlie was greeted cordially by nearly every one. 
Bill went to him and said, “Well, Charlie, glad to see you 
here. We’re going to have a good old scrap tonight. 
How did you get out without the old folks knowing it?” 

“O,” replied Charlie, laughing, “I had a bad head- 
ache and went to bed early, and to jump out of an up- 
stairs window isn’t much of a trick for the fellow who 
was the champion athlete at such a large college as the 
one I attended.” 

Charlie was looking at his athletics at school through 
rosy glasses. He certainly was a strong athletic fellow 
and could have been champion in many of the sports if 
he had only given more time to practice. However, he 
had great confidence in his wrestling and boxing abilities, 
and was always ready to try and prove the superior skill 
that he claimed. 

Bill and Charlie sat down together, to talk and wait 
for the others to come. While they were waiting there 
Bill spun a lie into Charlie’s ear. It was as follows : 

“You’re a chip of the old block, Charlie. I like to see 


64 


THE PATRIOT 


a young fellow take a little of this world’s pleasures. You 
can have a good time with the boys for a few years and 
then settle down. Your father did.” 

“Is that so?” Charlie asked eagerly. 

“Yes,” continued Bill, manufacturing his yarn as he 
went along. “Your father, when a young fellow, was the 
gayest of the gay. My uncle told me all about it. They 
used to go fishing together and the Squire would go off 
and get a little tipsy, and Uncle John said it was a circus 
to hear the speeches that he would make when he was 
that way. He always thought that he was running for 
some office and would make political harangues that the 
spell-binders of today can’t hold a candle to.” 

“Is that so ?” questioned Charlie, smiling broadly. 

“Yes, sir, straight goods,” asserted Bill. “But now 
you see how the ©Id gentleman has settled down. Because 
of this the Squire will always be lenient with you, for 
of course he remembers his own gay youth, even though 
he doesn’t tell you all the inside facts. Go it while you 
are young, my boy, as he did, for you will want to settle 
down soon enough of your own accord. I’ve got some 
extra good exhilarator here, Charlie, and I’m going to let 
you have the first sip.” 

Charlie hesitated a moment, then evidently impressed 
by Bill’s speech, took the bottle and drank hurriedly. 

As everybody had now arrived Bill arose and made 
a speech. “Gentlemen, we are here for a little innocent 
amusement, but there are some in Richton who object to 
these little recreations, especially that sanctimonious par- 


THE PA TRIOT 


65 


son who has preached against us. I’m a little fearful that 
he will be trying to break up this gathering; of course, 
he will not dare come without some officers, and we 
have changed our night of meeting, too, but yet I think 
that we had better have some one go out and stand 
guard. We can have a dozen or so and they can change 
about. In this way, they will not miss much of the 
scrimmage in here.” 

At Bill’s suggestion ten young fellows were appointed 
to stand as sentinels during the evening, taking turns of 
ten minutes each. 

Jim Blake and the fellow from up the lake now set 
their fighting cocks to work in the pit. The crowd took 
their places on the board seats. As they were sitting 
down one fellow said to Bill, “Bill, these seats are getting 
pretty shaky it seems to me.” 

“I know it,” replied Bill. “We will have to get some 
upright sticks and brace them before our next gathering. 
But there are not so many out as usual tonight, only 
about thirty-five, and I guess the seats will hold all right 
if you fellows don’t jump around too much. Now, boys, 
let them at it, let’s have a little fighting for a change.” 

The fight was a lively one, and soon the fellows began 
to bet. Charlie bet on the rooster that belonged to the 
fellow up the lake. Bill did no betting, he was too busy 
passing the bottle around. He seemed to have an un- 
limited supply from somewhere. Charlie, who sat beside 
Bill, drank quite often and was getting excited and bet 
recklessly. He soon realized that he had lost the money 


66 


THE PA TRIOT 


the Squire had given him to 'buy himself a new suit of 
clothes. When his last dollar was gone he became more 
reckless and grabbed Bill’s bottle and took a bigger swal- 
low than he had yet taken. Then he became boisterous 
and swore considerably. Everybody was now feeling 
good, some because of the money they had won, and 
others because of the liquor they had drunk. 

It was at this point that Burton arose and came 
quickly from behind the machinery into the center of the 
ring and stood between Jim Blake and the other fellow, 
and directly in front of the men on the seats. 

If Burton had been an artist, it would have been im- 
possible for him to have painted a picture of that scene. 
He might have reproduced the general outlines, the 
lighted lanterns throwing their sickly lights and grew- 
some shadows, the two men crouched near the fighting 
cocks, and those sitting on the seats in semi-darkness, 
but never could he have painted the expressions on the 
men’s faces. There was a mingled look of surprise, 
anger and fear that would have defied the brush of any 
one, save a Michael Angelo. 

When they realized that they were fairly caught, the 
dark look of anger settled into one of malignant hate 
upon the majority of the faces. Burton stood a moment 
looking around and then said : “Gentlemen, I have been 
present all the evening, and I am sure that I know the 
leaders of these night carousals. I am here to give you 
fair warning that I shall proceed against you, as best I 
can in the courts of justice. These gatherings with these 


THE PATRIOT 


67 


cock fights and this treating to liquor are against the laws 
of this great State, and they must be obeyed. Another 
reason that I am going to try and stop this is because you 
are wrecking your souls and bodies. Why will you 
pollute your mouths with oaths and obscene language? 
Why will you steal away your brains and souls with filthy 
liquor? Why do those who are older lead these young 
men into sins that make them a disgrace to themselves, 
and break the hearts of the old fathers and mothers of 
this community ? Charlie Colter, why do you come here ? 
You know that you are taking the first step on the road 
to perdition, while your father and mother believe and 
trust you to the utmost.” 

Bill Carter had watched the whole scene with a wily 
eye. He felt sure that Burton had come alone. When 
he was satisfied upon this point he decided, in a moment, 
that his best safety was to get some one into a row with 
Burton. Some one that would bring into the embroglio 
some of the solid people of the community. When Bur- 
ton spoke directly to Charlie and Bill saw Charlie flush 
even redder than the whiskey had made him, he leaned 
over and whispered in his ear, “Say, Charlie, don’t let 
him give us any Sunday School talk. You are twenty-one 
and can go where you want to, without having any 
preacher following you up to tell you what to do. The 
boys would like to see you give him a little trouncing. It 
would stop his infernal nonsense.” 

At these words Charlie, reckless with the whiskey 
that he had taken, jumped down into the ring where 


68 


THE PA TRIOT 


Burton was, and walking up to him said, “Parson, you 
seem to have presumed on our good nature. This is a 
secret organization, and it is impossible to get in without 
the pass word.” 

“Good, Charlie ! that’s the stuff !” shouted many 
voices. 

“You are no gentleman,” continued Charlie. “To 
come in in this way, but since you are here I am commis- 
sioned to initiate you into the first degree. It is as fol- 
lows.” At these last words Charlie drew back and struck 
Burton on the cheek a terrific blow with his open hand. 

“Good, Charlie!” shouted the men, while Bill Carter 
fairly rolled in his enjoyment. “Preacher daren’t fight! 
he’s a coward ! white feather !” shouted different voices. 

It did look that way for a moment, for Burton had 
grown very white, except where the red marks of 
Charlie’s fingers showed on his face. If he now resented 
Charlie’s blow with the test of physical strength, it looked 
like it would be a very unequal combat, for Charlie was 
six feet tall and fairly heavy, although he had not yet 
rounded out into mature manhood. His muscles were 
hardened by his athletics and by work on the farm since 
his coming home. But Burton was short, only a couple 
of inches over five feet, but he had broad shoulders and 
was six or seven years older than Charlie. Burton, how- 
ever, had a theory that under his clerical clothes he should 
carry as perfect a physical condition as possible, and he 
had always exercised with this in view. He never boasted 
of the fact and I was probably the only one in Richton 


THE PA TRIOT 


69 


who knew, at this time, that he had broken the strong 
man’s record while in college. He came of strong stock. 
His grandfather, when a youth, had taken eight bushels 
of wheat upon his shoulders and carried them up two 
flights of stairs; his father had been known to take a 
barrel of flour and set it over into a wagon bed, without 
having it touch his body. If Charlie had known of the 
steel-like muscles under Burton’s black suit, he would 
have hesitated before striking, even though he was half- 
crazed with liquor, and the thought that his parents would 
learn of his escapade. 

Burton forgot for a moment that Charlie was Mary’s 
brother when he received the stinging blow. He grew 
white, not with fear, but with anger. His hot Southern 
blood flamed up and he came near striking back with all 
his force. Then he thought of his promise to Mary and 
his responsibility for Charlie and resolved to give him 
another chance to act the man. But he decided, if Charlie 
struck him again, that he would give him a lesson, that 
is, providing that he could do so. He felt that probably 
the best thing for Charlie would be to humiliate him. 
As this thought flashed into Burton’s mind, the jeers of 
the crowd ceased, and then he said, “Charlie, you have 
initiated me into the first degree, perhaps you had better 
strike me on the other cheek and get me into the second 
degree.” 

Charlie, with an angry oath at Burton’s coolness, drew 
back and struck with even greater force than he had at 
first. As he did so, Burton suddenly stepped backwards, 


70 


THE PA TRIOT 


and Charlie, striking nothing, turned with the force of his 
blow until his back was toward Burton. This was the 
situation that Burton had planned, in his mind, and he 
jumped quickly forward and seized Charlie by the belt 
around his waist, for he had taken off his coat. Burton 
now gave a quick powerful jerk and had Charlie off his 
feet and doubled together like a jack-knife when the 
blade is partly closed. Burton then began to whirl around 
and soon had Charlie clear of the ground and swinging 
at arm’s length. On the second turn Charlie’s feet struck 
Jim Blake and knocked him over into the lower part of 
the saw mill. After a few turns Burton let go, timing 
his action so well that Charlie sailed through the air 
for five or six feet and went flying through the window 
over which the blanket had been hung. Those inside 
heard him cursing as he rolled down the steep bank, until 
he fell with a splash into the creek below. 

All this happened so quickly that the crowd looked 
on in blank amazement. Burton now looked smiling at 
them and said : “Does any one else want to take a short 
cut home? If you will all come singly, I think that I can 
accommodate you.” 

At this Bill Carter jumped up and said: “I’ll accom- 
modate you, you snivelling hound.” 

The crowd was delighted with this and cheered. They 
wanted a fight and did not care whether it was made by 
roosters or men. Bill was a powerful man physically and 
about Charlie’s build. He had suffered some from his 
manner of life, but was still strong. He thought that he 


THE PA TRIOT 


7 1 

could dispose of Burton easily, for, he said to himself, 
“Charlie is nothing but a big boy.” 

He went right after Burton and the encounter was 
more of a wrestling match than a fist fight. Bill soon 
found that Burton was the strongest man that he had 
ever grappled. Burton found that he had to use all his 
strength and science or Bill would have conquered him, 
but at last, with a mighty effort, he threw him flat on his 
stomach and stretched out at full length. Burton’s blood 
was now up, and he jumped forward and grabbed Bill by 
the seat of his trousers and his coat between his shoul- 
ders. Then, with almost a superhuman effort, he lifted 
Bill until he held him above his head. He held him there 
a moment, and then, still holding him aloft, ran toward 
the men and threw him into their very midst. As Bill’s 
one hundred and ninety pounds went crashing down 
upon them, the sudden *Jar was too much for the weak- 
ened seats, for they broke with a snap and the entire 
crowd was sent headlong to the floor twelve feet below. 
Luckily, the lanterns were hung to the roof by strings 
and they did not fall. 

Burton was appalled by the disaster that he had 
caused. As he stood a moment, he heard some of them 
cursing him, and then they began to climb the ladder 
threatening to take his life. As he heard them he real- 
ized that they were not all killed, and that the unhurt 
could help the injured. He jumped through the window 
through which he had gone a couple of hours before and 
started home. 


CHAPTER VI. 

BRIGHT DREAMS DISPELLED. 


Burton made his way homeward as rapidly as he 
could. He looked back two or three times, for he felt 
sure that he was being followed, and then he hurried on, 
for he knew not what some hot head would do to avenge 
their terrible humiliation. When he reached home, with- 
out encountering any one who had murder in his heart 
he counted himself fortunate. It was a quarter of twelve 
when Burton came into his room. He knew that he 
would be unable to sleep for a couple of hours at least 
and went to his book case and selected a book to read. 
It was not until three o’clock in the morning that he 
found himself sufficiently sleeply to go to bed. 

The next morning Burton awoke late, but Mrs. Men- 
son had kept breakfast warm for him. He hurried 
through his meal and then went down town. It was 
now nearly ten o’clock, and he was quite anxious to learn 
the extent of the damages of the night before. He found 
a group of idlers, as usual, gathered at the Post Office, 
but this morning they had something more exciting to 
discuss than the weather. Dr. Eaton had stopped a 
moment and was telling about a number of men that had 
been hurt. As Burton joined the group the doctor was 
saying querously: 


72 


THE PA TRIOT 


73 


“No one would tell me how he got hurt. Jim Blake 
has his left arm broken below the elbow, but will not say 
a word, except that he lies and swears at some one all 
the time. Frank Kircher has three ribs fractured. George 
Gordon has his right leg broken. Jim Himes has been 
painfully bruised about the head. A lot of other fellows 
have black eyes and sprained joints. I don’t know how 
all these things happened. They are all cussing at some 
one, and if each fellow has it in for the same one, God 
pity that man. Perhaps, though, they got into a general 
fight of some kind. No one will tell me how it all hap- 
pened, but as I do not have to know the previous history 
of a patient to be able to diagnose a broken bone, I think 
that I can get along all right.” At this the doctor 
stomped away. 

Burton was greatly relieved to learn that the injuries 
had not been any more severe than they were. If he had 
wished that any one in particular had gotten hurt in the 
melee, he would probably have picked out Bill Carter. 
He accounted for Bill’s escape because he came down 
on top of them instead of underneath. But Burton 
wished nothing against individuals; he was fighting for 
a principle, and if individuals came in hi* way, it was 
merely a secondary matter to him. He had hoped to 
carry on the war, for such he realized thf.t it would be, 
for the enforcement of law, without miking personal 
enemies. He felt satisfied already in his two days of 
public effort that such a hope was an iridescent dream. 

Burton heard nothing about Charlie Colter. He still 


74 


THE PA TRIOT 


felt that he had done the right thing when he tossed 
Charlie about so unceremoniously, and hoped that it 
would teach the boaster a lesson and take the conceit out 
of him, for he needed it badly. Burton believed that if 
Mary ever learned about the affair, and under what cir- 
cumstances it had taken place, she would uphold him. 
But who would tell her? He certainly would not, for he 
meant to say nothing about the matter. He believed that 
he was the only one at the saw mill and that his uncor- 
roborated testimony would do no good, and because of 
this it would be useless to have any one arrested. The 
crowd, evidently were going to keep quiet about the 
whole thing, and take their revenge in some underhand 
way. He believed that Bill Carter and his followers 
would now be scheming day and night how to make life 
miserable for him. 

Charlie Colter, when he went through the old saw 
mill window and rolled down the steep bank into the cold 
water, was thoroughly sobered. In the descent of the 
bank he tore about a square inch of skin off of one of his 
cheeks and sprained his left shoulder, but not seriously. 
He arose dripping wet and as he stood a moment un- 
decided what to do, he heard the crash of the broken 
seats and then the horrible cursings and threatenings of 
the men. He decided that he had experienced enough 
trouble for one evening and wondering how he would ex- 
plain his bruised cheek and lame shoulder, went home. 
He found the rope which he had hung out of his upstairs 
window and began to climb up. It was very difficult 


THE P AT RIOT 


75 


because of his lame shoulder, but at last he was able to 
crawl into his room and lay down with a sigh to sleep as 
best he could. 

Charlie was the first one up the next morning, and 
took the milk pails and went out to the cattle sheds. He 
found that he could milk with only one hand, for the 
other arm was so stiff that it was very painful. While 
he was milking he figured out how he would account for 
his injuries. He decided that he would tell his parents 
that a cow kicked him over. 

With this in view he went into the house. As Charlie 
came limping in his mother caught sight of him and 
cried out: 'Why, Charlie, my boy, what is the matter ?” 

“Matter !” said Charlie savagely, “that old cow you 
call the gentlest in the world, took a kick at me, that’s 
all.” 

“Why, Charlie, I can’t understand it. She never 
kicked before ; what made her do it now ?” 

“Can’t say, mother, can’t say; perhaps she had some- 
thing on her conscience.” He said the last with a grim 
smile. 

Charlie now let his mother explain matters to the 
Squire and Mary, who had just come in. “Father, just 
look at Charlie’s face and arm,” said Mrs. Colter. “That 
old cow has kicked him over ; I’d never have believed it 
possible if Charlie hadn’t told me. You had better sell 
her for beef if she is growing vicious.” 

“Well, mother,” replied the Squire, “we will see about 
it. Perhaps since Charlie has been off to school he has 


76 


THE PA TRIOT 


forgotten how to manage cattle. Charlie is not seriously 
hurt, I guess. Is breakfast ready?” 

Mary asked no questions, when she saw Charlie’s in- 
juries, but went and got the liniment and some salve for 
his bruised cheek. She was very anxious until Charlie 
assured her that they were but scratches, and that he 
would be all right in a few days. If she had known 
how he really received them she would indeed have been 
anxious. Perhaps she would not be so lenient in her 
judgment of Burton as he had persuaded himself that she 
would be. It is hard to forgive one who hurts one of our 
kith and kin, even though we would have inflicted the 
same injuries ourselves under like circumstances. 

Charlie was in a tremor all day lest Burton should 
come to the Squire and tell him of the escapade of the 
evening before. This thought filled him with fear, and 
the one we fear we soon hate, and so Charlie was soon 
planning dark thoughts of revenge. He hoped that he 
would get an early chance to get even with Burton; he 
would not be so squeamish, he told himself, about telling 
a lie or lies for such a purpose. His opportunity came 
sooner than he had expected, for Burton called the day 
after the saw mill fight, as he had made an engagement 
to take supper with the Colter’s sometime before and 
saw no reason why he should not go. He knew that he 
would meet Charlie but decided that neither by word 
nor manner would he refer to the night before. 

The evening passed quietly. When Burton was told 
by Mrs. Colter how Charlie had received his bruised 


THE PA TRIOT 


77 


cheek and sprained arm, he accepted it as the truth, for 
he did not know that Charlie had been hurt in rolling 
down the bank. Charlie’s manner toward Burton was 
one of dignified reserve, which he considerably overdid. 
The Squire was gracious and did not speak of the Sun- 
day evening sermon. Mrs. Colter was busy in her prep- 
aration for supper and knitting afterwards. Mary and 
Burton talked together considerably and sang some. It 
was evident to Charlie’s jealous eyes, and in his revenge- 
ful frame of mind, that they were a great deal interested 
in each other. He said to himself : “The best revenge 
for me against this cantankerous preacher is to poison 
Mary’s mind about him, so that she will dislike him, 
even if she does not hate him. I’ll do it.” 

Just before Burton left Charlie heard him say to 
Mary: “I have my sail boat fixed and wish that you 
would take a sail with me. I have planned going on 
Friday afternoon.” 

“Do you know how to sail a boat, Mr. Burton ?” she 
asked mischievously. 

“I practiced all last fall and for the last month and 
believe that I will not endanger your life,” he answered. 

“Very well, if you are sure you are a good sailor I 
will go. I haven’t had a sail for four years. What time 
will you start?” 

“Perhaps two o’clock will be early enough,” answered 
Burton. “I will drive over and get you and will try to 
be here about half-past one, so we can have a good long 
afternoon. The hills are getting quite green and the 
meadows and bluffs must look fine.” 


78 


THE PA TRIOT 


Burton then said good night to the Squire and Mrs. 
Colter and to Charlie. The older ones answered politely, 
'but Charlie kept his dignified silence. 

Mary went to the door with Burton. As they stood 
and talked a moment, he pointed out Venus, the evening 
star, and she unconsciously stepped outside to get a better 
view and drew the door shut. They conversed a moment 
about the mysteries of the vaulted deep and Mary re- 
peated in her low musical voice a few words of the child- 
hood poem so familiar to all: 

‘‘Twinkle, twinkle little star, 

How I wonder what you are, 

Up above the world so high, 

Like a diamond in the sky.” 

“If you had a mirror you wouldn’t have to look so 
far to see something to remind you of diamonds,” Bur- 
ton said. 

“What would that be?” asked Mary. 

“Your eyes,” replied Burton, as he looked into them 
admiringly. 

“Thank you, Mr. Burton,” she said. “But there is a 
word that rhymes with the last word in that little verse 
that I must say now.” 

“What is it?” inquired Burton. 

“Why, it is good-bye,” she said laughing. 

“Not good-bye, but good night, or auf wiedersehn, 
for I am not going far away. 

“Well, then, good night, Mr. Burton, if that suits you 
better, I must go in now.” 


THE PA TRIOT 


79 


“Good night. You will not forget Friday’s sail, will 
you ?” 

“Certainly not. I have been away so long that I am 
just aching for a good time on the lake. I do hope that 
you are a good sailor, though, for I am always a little 
nervous.” 

“I’ll surely take good care of you,” Burton said ear- 
nestly. “Now, finally, farewell, or better, good night and 
pleasant dreams.” 

“Good night,” said Mary as she ran lightly inside. 

Charlie noticed her as she came in and saw that her 
eyes were shining and her cheeks were flushed with 
pleasure. He promised himself that he would put a stop 
in some way to this friendship that seemed on the verge 
of a love affair. 

Mary was restless after she came in and drummed 
on the piano a little, then tried to read, but soon bade 
them good night and went up to her room. Mrs. Colter 
looked meaningly at the Squire, for her mother’s heart 
told her that the restless ways of Mary and her bright 
eyes meant that her heart was getting interested. But 
he was deeply engrossed in the evening paper, and man- 
like noticed nothing. 

Charlie, soon after Mary had gone, laid down his book 
and also went upstairs. As he was going by Mary’s door 
with a sudden resolve he stopped and knocked lightly. 
He heard Mary say “Come in.” He found her reading 
a book of poems. “You do not seem so sleepy as you 
did a while ago, Sis,” he said. 


So 


THE PATRIOT 


“I did not say that I was sleepy, did I ?” Mary asked, 
smilingly. 

“No, but I supposed that you were when you came 
up to your room. What are you reading? A poem on 
love ! Why, Mary, you are getting pretty silly.” 

“O hush, Charlie,” replied Mary blushing. “I was 
only glancing through this book and stopped for a mo- 
ment at this page.” 

“Mary, what do you think of this man Burton, any- 
way?” blurted out Charlie. 

Perhaps because of his youth he thought that Mary 
would lay bare her heart for his inspection. 

“Why,” she answered readily, “he is a perfect gentle- 
man, rather short in stature and a splendid preacher.” 

“Of course,” answered Charlie disgustedly. “But do 
you know, I think that fellow has designs on you? He 
did nothing all evening but sit and look at you.” 

“Charlie, Charlie,” Mary said quickly, “how can you 
talk so?” 

“It is a fact, and I do not fancy it a little bit. Now, 
I want to warn you. I learned from good authority only 
yesterday that he is of a quarrelsome disposition. He is, 
I am told, a mere brawler on occasions. I know this, 
Mary, that he grossly insulted me, and that is the reason 
I was so cool to him this evening. What do we know 
about his past anyway? He is a Southerner and never 
refers to his life in Kentucky, and I have been told that 
there is something not only mysterious in it, but some- 
thing that he is ashamed of. I want you to think of these 


THE PATRIOT 


81 


things before it is too late. You can see the way he 
preached Sunday that he is a man who is domineering 
and narrow in his views.” 

“Charlie, I can't deny nor answer most of the things 
you have said, for I know nothing about them. But I 
don't agree with you nor father about the sentiments 
that he expressed Sunday evening. I believe in his Sun- 
day evening’s sermon. Now, Charlie, I will excuse you, 
I wish to be alone.” 

Mary could not help but let a little sob break her 
voice as she spoke. 

Charlie had certainly spoiled her evening. Her bright 
dreams were dispelled. She had no reason to disbelieve 
Charlie, and she knew of no reason why Charlie should 
slander Burton. Charlie had always been truthful as 
far as she knew, but she could not bring herself to be- 
lieve all that his words implied. She hoped that all 
would be cleared up in the morning. With this feeling 
she went to bed with a heavy burden, for it seemed to her 
as if she had lost a friend. In the darkness, where none 
but God could see, her sad heart had its way, for her 
tears soon wet the pillow, but at last the blessed sleep 
came 


CHAPTER VII. 

MARY HEARS THE “OLD, OLD STORY.” 

When Mary woke the next morning she did not feel 
rested. However, she rose immediately, getting up in 
time to help her mother with the early breakfast. She 
went swiftly about her morning tasks, but was unable 
to throw off the disagreeable impression made by 
Charlie’s speech of the evening before. She did not 
acknowledge, even to herself, as yet that she loved Robert 
Burton. In fact, she did not know her own heart. She 
felt as if one whom she admired and respected very 
much had done something to secure her contempt. But 
then Charlie’s words had generalized, perhaps, she told 
herself, if she knew the circumstances, she would judge 
it differently than Charlie, so she tried to comfort her- 
self. She was too proud and too sensitive to ask of 
him a fuller report of the matter. 

The household duties on the farm of Squire Colter, 
which was very large, were many and exacting. These 
kept Mary busy and she did not have much opportunity 
to think about herself or Burton. The days passed 
swiftly and Friday dawned bright and warm. When 
Burton drove up to the farm house, promptly at half 
past one, Mary was ready. She had recovered her spirits 
somewhat, and greeted him cordially. But amid it all, 
the smiles and the words, a solemn foreboding ceased 
not to tug at her heart strings. 

8a 


THE PA TRIOT 


83 


Burton was full of jolly life. He had made a de- 
cision that he would ask Mary to be his wife. He had 
weighed the matter well and rejoiced because his heart 
and judgment coincided. The only worry he had now 
was that he did not know how his suit would be received. 
While there is a certain painful joy in living in the 
uncertain time, when the man does not know just what 
the lady of his heart will say, yet there comes a time when 
he must make the plunge, and Burton felt that his was to 
be the day of their sail. 

As Mary came out Burton greeted her by saying, 
“You would make an ideal minister’s wife.” 

“Why?” she asked, blushing divinely, for he looked 
at her so masterfully. 

“Because you are always ready and never late to 
church,” he answered, as his eyes devoured her ad- 
miringly, for she did in truth look dainty and charming 
in her white and blue yachting suit, and her big dark 
eyes had drunk in the sunlight and now rivaled old Sol 
himself. 

“It is a splendid day for a sail, isn’t it?” she queried, 
changing the subject quickly. 

“O, I don’t know,” he answered teasingly, “I am not 
much of a sailor, you know. 

“Well, then, I am going straight back into the house,” 
she said threateningly. 

“You are too late,” he rejoined. “You are already 
in the buggy and I am not going to stop to let you out.” 

A quick drive of two miles brought them to Burton’s 


84 


THE PA TRIOT 


boat house. “The Spray,” the name of his boat, looked 
trim and ready. The day was ideal for sailing. A stiff 
breeze was blowing, but not hard enough to make the 
waves roll. The lake was about fifteen miles long and 
four to five wide. They hoped to be able to sail up to 
the frowning cliffs, four or five miles below the head 
of the lake and then back, before dark. 

Burton proved to Mary’s satisfaction, before they had 
sailed a mile, that he knew how to handle the boat. She 
then settled back into the broad seat beside him, with a 
sigh of pure enjoyment. 

There were many beautiful sights for the sailors. The 
first to impress them were the great rolling hills on 
either side, for they were green with the first grass of 
spring. After their eyes had taken in the whole the 
special features began to impress them. Mary had noted 
and pointed out the green pastures, that seemed to be 
cut out of the surrounding woods with mathematical 
accuracy. Burton thought that the cattle grazing looked 
more like dogs in size, and then as they listened atten- 
tively for a moment, out of the great distance came the 
faint tinkle of the cow bells. They were both impressed 
with the homelikeness of the farm houses, as they were 
tucked here and there into the groves, looking cozy and 
comfortable as the lazy smoke sauntered upward from 
the broad chimneys. As they would near some point of 
land they seemed drifting back to earth and sound once 
more, for often, mingled with the chirp of the robins, 
came the shout of the plowman as he turned the even 


THE PA TRIOT 85 

furrow, or the riotous cackle of the gleeful hen proudly 
proclaiming to the world her wonderful achievements. 

Perhaps because nature was so talkative Burton and 
Mary said but little on the journey up the lake. Per- 
haps Burton was planning how to introduce the subject 
that seemed so easy to him when he was alone in his 
room. Perhaps Mary was only enjoying the sail and 
the scenery, and only at long intervals did she think of 
what Charlie had said about the one who was by her 
side. Perhaps ! 

When they were within two or three miles of 
home Burton realized that he had not spoken yet about 
the subject that was nearest his heart. Then, as he 
decided, now or never, that organ began to beat tumul- 
tuously and he felt as if all would not be well with him. 
Mary had seemed preoccupied and a little distant in 
manner. Finally he made the plunge. “Mary,” he said, 
“we have not been acquainted very long, only six months, 
but in that time you have taught me the greatest lesson 
of my life.” 

“Why, Mr. Burton, how can that be? I am afraid 
you are given to flattery,” Mary said innocently, for he 
had mystified her by his remark. 

Burton smiled as he replied, “You have taught me 
to love, as man never loved before, and that love is 
for you. I want you to promise to be my wife. I know 
that I can fight the battles of life and the battles of the 
soul much better, if you will only consent to make the 
journey with me. My heart cries out night and day, 


86 


THE PA TRIOT 


‘I want you, I want you.’ That is all. Only this: If 
you will come to me I will count it the greatest pleasure 
of my life to try in all ways to make you happy. I do 
not know what more to say. My heart says so much 
and my lips interpret so poorly. O, Mary, there are so 
many Fs in this, but then a lover is not a lover unless 
he is selfish. Dear girl, dearer than life, I want you 
so badly, won’t you come to me?” 

As Burton finished he clasped Mary’s hand and her 
slim white fingers unconsciously returned the pressure. 
She pondered a moment with downcast eyes, and then 
said in almost a whisper, “Mr. Burton, I do not know 
what to say. Something tells me to go to you and be 
happy, and then something whispers, ‘Wait.’ I must have 
time to think it over. Ever since that sermon you 
preached last Sunday evening I have been restless and 
uncertain. I feel all the time as if something was hap- 
pening that I do not know of. I am not superstitious, 
but it seems to me as if something dreadful was about 
to occur. Give me a little time. A week from today 
we have arranged for that picnic for the friends that are 
coming out from the city. You have asked me to go 
with you. At that time I will give you my answer. In 
the meantime do not despair.” 

She could not help adding this, for Burton looked 
so miserable that she could not refuse him this grain of 
comfort. 

Burton raised her hand to his lips, and as she realized 
she had been clasping his hand she withdrew hers with 
a little embarrassed laugh. 


THE PATRIOT 


87 


Burton said, '‘I will not despair, Mary. That is 
not my nature, but when a woman hesitates in a matter 
of the heart she does not know her heart, or else will 
finally say no. I am hoping and praying that you do 
not know your heart. There is one thing that I want 
to tell you, and yet I cannot bring myself to tell you 
the entire story at this time. I am from Kentucky. If 
you should go there you would find that our family for 
over a hundred years has been honored and trusted. 
You would find that the neighbors would say that the 
Burtons were always upright. But a certain thing hap- 
pened years ago, that I do not know just how you would 
look at. This is all I ask, Mary, if you should ever 
in any way hear anything detrimental to my character 
or life in the past, please, before believing it, give me 
a chance to be heard. If you see your way open to look 
favorably upon my pleadings, I will tell you all things 
before binding you to me, and then you can choose/’ 

Mary looked at him with startled eyes and fast fading 
color. She was now pursuaded that there was truth in 
Charlie’s accusation. There was something hidden in 
Burton’s life, and it must be bad or he would not seek to 
hide it. 

Now they were both nervous and ill at ease, and 
wished the journey over. The rest of the sail was taken 
almost in silence. The drive home in the dusk of the 
cool evening was soon over, and then ended in miserable 
misunderstanding, an afternoon that began so happily. 

Mary said quietly, “Good night,” and went into the 


88 


THE PA TRIOT 


house with a troubled heart. Burton drove home feeling 
as if a vise was at his chest. He could see that for 
some reason she was uncertain, and he felt as if she 
looked at him with distrust. He could not account for 
it, and kept asking himself, “Could Charlie have told 
her what happened at the saw mill, and have colored it 
so that it made me appear in a bad light? But I guess 
Charlie will keep still about that matter. I believe/’ and 
he smiled grimly as he realized that he was talking out 
loud, “that Mary loves me and I am going to win her 
or know the reason why. Rob Burton, you must win 
or you will be miserable all the rest of your life.” 

Then he gave his horse a sharp cut with the whip 
and went home determined to persevere. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

AT THE PICNIC. 


It was Friday when Burton made his proposal to 
Mary. Saturday he tried to put the finishing touches 
on his sermon for the next day. He found that he 
could do nothing. He finally gave up in despair and 
came and knocked on my door, and wanted to go for a 
row, but I was busy with some examination papers and 
could not. So he went alone. 

Burton’s exercises on the lake did not help him 
much. His sermons on the following Sunday were the 
poorest Richton people ever listened to from him. At 
least, so he thought. He was preoccupied, and made two 
or three mistakes, by giving out wrong hymns, then he 
began to read the scripture lesson from Matthew when 
he wished to read from Mark. 

Mrs. Colter whispered to Mary, “What in the world 
is the matter with Mr. Burton today?” 

“I am sure I can’t tell,” Mary answered, but she 
must have had an inkling, for she grew rosy and watched 
Burton covertly through her long eye lashes. She seemed 
pleased, too, that he was thinking of something else than 
his sermon. 

Squire Colter thought that Burton had taken his hint 
about not preaching so severely about local conditions, 
for his sermons this Sunday were far removed from the 

89 


90 


THE PA TRIOT 


one of the Sunday evening before. He did not believe 
in eternally nagging at something, but if he wanted a 
reform he whacked it hard and then went to work. 
But the Squire was pleased, as all domineering men are 
when they think they have another slave, and was very 
gracious. He congratulated Burton on his sermons and 
told him that he would undoubtedly be pastor of some 
large city church in the near future. 

Burton thanked the Squire for his kind remarks and 
said, “I am not very well satisfied with today’s sermons, 
but often those that please the preacher the least please 
the people the most.” 

Then he turned to Mary and as they shook hands 
she said, “Mr. Burton, I had a letter last evening from 
the friends in the city. They are going to come out 
on Wednesday and if it is a nice day Friday we will 
surely have our picnic. It will be up in the 'six mile 
gull.’ You remember that you have engaged my com- 
pany.” 

“Just as if I could forget it,” Burton said, a little 
too fervently for so public a place. He then hastened 
out into the large vestibule to shake hands with the 
others. 

On Monday Burton had a funeral, and was busy 
with that most of the day. Tuesday he began preparing 
sermons for the following Sunday. Wednesday he went 
over to Colter’s in the afternoon to get acquainted with 
the young people from the city. While he was there 
Charlie acted very discourteously to him. Burton then 


THE PA TRIOT 


9i 


realized that he was not going to take his defeat in a 
manly way, but that he had made of him an enemy. On 
Thursday Burton made a needed trip into the city and 
did not return home until late in the evening. 

In this way the week went much more rapidly than 
it seemed it possibly could to Burton, and Friday dawned 
a beautiful morning. The sunlight touched the tops of 
the eastern hills first, and burnished them with gold, 
then crept quietly down the slopes, peeping into hidden 
nooks that it might laugh with the romping springs; at 
last it fell upon the sombre lake, and changed it instantly, 
from a leaden murky mass of water, into a shining tiara 
that crowned the valley with heavenly glory. Burton 
felt that such a glorious day could not bring sadness to 
him. We are all, at least a little bit, superstitious. 

The picnickers were made up of sixteen young people. 
I could not go, for it was a school day. Four of the 
picnickers had come out from the city, three young men 
and one young lady. They were stopping at Squire 
Colter's. The rest of the company was made up of 
Richton young folk. Among these were Burton, Mary, 
Charlie and other young people of Burton’s congrega- 
tion. It was a jolly crowd that drove away from the 
Squire’s spacious house. A few were in single carriages, 
like Burton and Mary, but the majority were in a large 
spring wagon, which Charlie drove. 

They went directly to the deep ravine up the lake 
called the “Six Mile Gull.” It was an ideal place to 
have a picnic. A clear, sparkling stream flowed down 


92 


THE PA TR10T 


between the towering bluffs, and on each side grew mas- 
sive oaks and elms, that overhung and made many a 
splendid opportunity to hang swings and hammocks. A 
few hundred feet away was the lake, plenty of boats, and 
good fishing. In the gull were many nooks, where the 
young people could go and talk or dream of love and 
life. 

Burton had determined that he would say nothing 
about his proposal on the previous Friday before they 
started home. He was fearful that the refusal would 
spoil Mary’s day as well as his. 

When the picnic grounds were reached the young 
men put up a couple of swings, cleaned out the boats, 
and fixed a few stones, so that the girls could have a 
camp fire to heat the coffee and to warm themselves, if 
it became chilly in the shady gull, for it was yet early 
in spring. Then they all wandered about in pairs and 
groups, up the gull and in the by paths to look for the 
arbutus and other flowers that had ventured out. 

By half past eleven they were all back at camp except 
Burton. While the girls were getting dinner ready, 
Charlie called some of the young fellows to one side 
for a talk. After telling them something about Burton’s 
sermon he said, “Now, let us have a little fun joshing 
the preacher when he comes to dinner. You who live 
here know what a crank he is about enforcing the law. 
We can make him pretty sick of the game when we 
call to his attention the violent way law is disobeyed in 
his own dear Dixie land.” 


THE PA TRIOT 


93 


They all agreed to Charlie’s proposition and just then 
the girls called them to dinner. When their hunger was 
somewhat appeased, Harry Brinker, one of the young 
men from the city, said, “Mr. Burton, I understand that 
you have been preaching about law, or rather its enforce- 
ment. Do you believe that every law good and bad 
should be enforced ?” 

“I certainly do feel and believe that with my whole 
heart,” replied Burton. 

“Do you believe that the 'niggers,’ as you southerners 
call them, ought to vote ?” 

“No, I do not believe that the law ought to permit 
them to vote, but since it does, until it is changed they 
should do it even though the heavens fall,” said Burton 
earnestly. 

“If a bad law is enforced will it not do more harm 
than good ?” continued Harry. 

“Why,” answered Burton thoughtfully, “it may cause 
inconvenience, impatience, and sometimes suffering, but 
if a bad law is thoroughly enforced, it will soon be re- 
pealed by the people. But if it is laxily enforced or 
ignored, it weakens the whole system of government, by 
making the people not care much for the mandates of 
the nation. If the fugitive slave law had been obeyed 
by the people of the North, and if they had not eased 
their feelings by helping the slaves to escape, the war 
would have come ten or fifteen years before it did, the 
South would have been caught unprepared, and the con- 
flict would have lasted less than six months. Thousands 


94 


THE PA TRIOT 


and thousands of young men would not have been shot 
down. There would never have been any Antietam, 
Gettysburg, or The Wilderness, but only the first Bull 
Run and then the end. But the people played with law 
and paid for it by giving their young men by the hun- 
dred thousands for the expiation.” 

“Well,” replied Harry, “you will find that you stand 
alone in your queer idea. My father owns a number of 
tenement houses in the city. He is a good church mem- 
ber and he says that there would be no profit in his tene- 
ment houses if he obeyed the letter of the law in their 
construction. He breaks many an ordinance, but he says 
that he doesn’t lose any sleep about his deeds, for he 
doesn’t believe in following every fool law the city council 
sees fit to pass.” 

“Suppose, Harry,” asked Burton, “one of your father’s 
tenants should say that the law against arson was a fool 
law, and some night should burn your father’s house, 
ought he not to be justified in his position, as much as 
your father is in his?” 

“No,” shouted Harry. “My father has money and 
influence and would prosecute him to the full extent of 
the law.” 

“Then,” said Burton, with a tinge of bitterness in his 
voice, “it is the old, old position that you take, that 
trickery backed by money and power makes right.” 

“That’s about it, I suppose,” said Harry. “As you 
interpret it. I would say, ‘Let each individual interpret 
the laws to suit himself and keep out of its clutches if 
he can.’ ” 


THE PA TRIOT 


95 


“Yes/’ said Burton, with deep conviction, “that is 
what they are doing today, from the great oil magnate 
down, or up, more probably, to the meanest, dirtiest 
anarchist in the slums of our cities. Even you are carry- 
ing a concealed weapon contrary to law, and probably 
saying that it is nobody’s business.” 

“Yes, it is true that I have a revolver,” said Harry, 
reddening a little. “And as you say, it is nobody’s 
business. Every young fellow here has one except you. 
We think that such a law is nonsense, and so don’t obey 
it, if we want to take a revolver with us on a picnic or 
anywhere else.” 

“Well, if you figure it out correctly, you will find 
that you are all of you nothing but respectable anar- 
chists,” said Burton as he turned and walked away-, for 
he saw that the conversation was doing more harm than 
good. 

“Since he has been so flattering in his names, boys, 
maybe we will give him a taste of anarchy before the day 
is over,” mumbled Charlie to the other fellows. 

The afternoon soon passed, for they rowed and fished, 
climbed the bluffs, hunted more flowers, ate lunch two 
or three times, and then before sundown they were ready 
to go home. Five of the couples went in the large ex- 
press wagon, that was driven by Charlie. His was the 
last load to leave the picnic grounds. Burton and Mary 
were about half a mile ahead of this team, while the 
other single carriages were still further ahead. 

Just as Charlie started he made a suggestion to the 
fellows as follows, “Boys, let us drive up behind the 


96 


THE PATRIOT 


parson, then go past him, and as we go let every fellow 
fire off his revolver, every load, just as fast as we can. 
It will give him an up-to-date taste of anarchy.” 

“All right,” said the others, for they were a thought- 
less lot. 

The girls pleaded with them not to do it. “You will 
scare his horse and make it run away,” said one. “He 
has a very wild horse, too, and it is awfully hard to hold.” 

“Well, I’ll guarantee the parson is strong enough to 
hold any horse in the county,” said Charlie. “There will 
be no damage. It will just show him with what con- 
tempt we look upon his ideas. He deserves something, 
calling us anarchists.” 

They had now come up close to Burton’s buggy, for 
he was driving slow. Burton had just said, “Mary, I 
haven’t been able to sleep, or eat or think to any pur- 
pose at all this week, because my heart has kept me 
wondering what your answer would be today. What is 
it to be for me, life or despair ?” 

“O, Mr. Burton, I do not want to cause you pain,” 
began Mary, “but I am afraid, ” 

Just then Charlie whipped up his team and started 
by with a rush. As they came opposite every young man 
fired off his revolver. This made a fearful racket, and 
Burton’s horse, wild with fright, started to run just be- 
hind Charlie’s wagon, for he had turned in ahead. 

There were two roads leading down to Richton from 
this point, the lower and the upper one. The upper one 
was considerably shorter, but more hilly. A hundred 








. 





















































* 

























































I ^ 



She Now Knew that She Loved Burton 



THE PA TRIOT 


97 


yards after he drove by, Charlie turned into the upper 
road, but Burton’s horse swerved suddenly into the lower 
road and began to rush madly down a short hill. The 
two rigs, because of the trees, were out of sight of each 
other almost as soon as they went into separate roads. 
Burton was pulling with all his might, for his horse was 
plunging madly, when suddenly a line snapped. Burton 
realized that there was greater danger pulling on one 
line than in letting the horse run free, so he dropped the 
reins and reached into his pocket and drew out his knife. 
Then leaning far over the dash board, he cut quickly 
the two hold back straps, then he took hold of the tugs, 
one in each hand and with a quick jerk unhooped them 
both. The horse now dashed out of the shafts and the 
buggy was free. It, however, had considerable mo- 
mentum, and not being guided by the horse, turned and 
ran into the bank and stopped with a sudden jerk. This 
quick stop threw Burton, for he was leaning far forward, 
out upon his head, and his knife was forced into his arm 
and he began to bleed profusely. 

As Mary saw him lying in the road, white, uncon- 
scious and bleeding, she thought that he was dead or 
dying. It revealed her heart to herself. She now knew 
that she loved Burton, no matter what his past had been 
or what had been said by Charlie or any one. She jumped 
out quickly and ran to a nearby stream with his hat 
and filled it with water, then she came back and took his 
head in her lap and wet his face with her tears as well 
as with the water. 


98 


THE PA TRIOT 


When Burton, a moment later, regained conscious- 
ness, he found his head in her lap and her lips upon his 
forehead. When she saw his eyes opening she blushed 
a little and then said quickly, “O, Rob, I do love you. 
I’m so glad those horrid boys broke the law, for if they 
had not I would have been goose enough not to have 
known it. Now, please get up right away and be strong, 
for you look so white.” 

“I am so glad,” she heard him murmur. 

“Why, because they broke the law?” she asked smil- 
ingly. 

He feebly shook his head as he answered, “No, for 
you, sweetheart.” Then he reached up and pulled her 
head down, and they plighted their troth with the seal 
that is as ancient as humanity. 


CHAPTER IX. 

SOME REMINISCENCES OF SQUIRE COLTER. 

Burton’s horse ran clear to Richton, five miles, before 
he stopped. He was there seen by some boys who knew 
him and they reported the fact. A couple of men, realiz- 
ing that something was wrong, started to drive up the 
lake, taking the upper road, which took them by Squire 
Colter’s. Just as they came to the Squire’s, Charlie was 
driving his load up with a grand flourish. The men 
told them that Burton’s horse had come running into 
town with the harness broken and without the buggy. 
At this information Charlie grew white and turned the 
horses, and without a word started back with his load 
toward the place where the roads parted. 

When they came to the fork of the roads they found 
Mary and Burton sitting at one side on a big boulder. 
They had walked back up thus far, when Burton from 
the weakness caused from the loss of blood, and the 
hard bump he had received, was compelled to sit down. 

As Charlie came up one girl whispered to another, 
'They are looking remarkably happy for people who have 
just had a runaway.” 

Burton soon explained how the mishap occurred, the 
part that Charlie and his comrades had not seen. 
Charlie jumped out and helped Mary into the wagon. 
As he did so he whispered in her ear how sorry 


LOFC, 


99 


100 


THE PA TRIOT 


he was, that he had only meant to have a little fun. 
Mary readily forgave him. He was not manly enough 
to apologize to Burton for the things that he had done, 
and Burton was too happy and too weak to notice any 
neglect on Charlie’s part. 

They drove home slowly, for the jarring hurt Bur- 
ton’s head, and Mary’s nerves were unstrung. Soon 
after dark they reached the Squire’s, and all went inside 
to spend the evening in singing and conversation. Mary 
was folded into the motherly arms of Mrs. Colter and 
while there she whispered a moment into her mother’s 
ear. Then Mrs. Colter came around to Burton to thank 
him for the thoughtful way he had taken to save her 
daughter, and then she kissed him while she whispered 
to him, “I am so glad that I am to have so noble, grand 
a son as you. You must take good care of my girl when 
you get her.” 

Burton assured her of his best intentions by a good 
warm hand-clasp. 

After awhile the young people grew tired of singing, 
and as they were unable to eat any more, they gathered 
around the Squire and asked him to tell them of old 
times. The Squire said, “What shall I tell you about?” 

“Tell us about the old abolition days,” said one. 

The Squire’s brow clouded for a moment, and then 
as he always loved to give reminiscences, especially the 
old abolition days, he began without much urging. 
“My father and I became abolitionists through the in- 
fluence of Fred Douglass, the great negro orator. I 


THE PA TRIOT 


IOI 


was a young man of eighteen when I first saw him. 
Father was won to him and his cause immediately and 
insisted on his coming to our house to make it his head- 
quarters whenever he came to Western New York. He 
was often at Rochester and he never failed to come out 
and see us. He was a wonderful orator, not only at 
public gatherings, but in private conversation he could 
hold one spell-bound. As I said father took him into 
our house and made him one of the family. People of 
the community did not like it very well, and said that 
we were making too much of the negro, but father 
swerved not an inch from his course, for he was of an 
independent and set disposition. My oldest sister was 
a girl then and father, to show Douglass that he cared 
nothing for color, used to insist on her kissing Fred 
when he came.” The Squire frowned fiercely a moment 
and then continued bitterly, “Probably you all know the 
outcome of that friendship and the base ingratitude of 
Douglass. You know how in the last years that friend- 
ship of sister and Douglass ripened into something deeper 
and my sister has gained the unique distinction of being 
the white wife of the great colored orator. Douglass is 
gone now, and peace to his ashes. Sister will be wel- 
comed back to the old home when she chooses to come. 
She has not been here for years.” 

During the latter part of the Squire’s talk Burton 
raised himself on his elbow, for he had lain down on a 
couch, and looked searchingly at the Squire as he gave 
this information. 


102 


THE PA TRIOT 


“Father being such a strong abolitionist/’ continued 
the Squire, “of course sent me to Oberlin to school. 
Those were grand days and I look back on them with 
a great deal of pleasure. There was such a spirit of 
good fellowship there. Everybody helped 1 everybody 
else. There was nothing but equality; women, negroes 
and men were on the same common basis. 

“Then to hear that grand old preacher, Finney, was 
a treat. It was certainly marvelous the influence he held 
over an audience. He was very autocratic, however, in 
his demands. He could brook no interference with his 
plans. He said that he was led of God, and when a 
man is led of God, or even thinks that he is, he often 
becomes the most intolerant of individuals.” This was 
probably a sly hit at Burton. “Sometimes, though, Presi- 
dent Finney would meet his match. Of course in the 
early days Oberlin leaders objected to dancing, as they 
do yet. One of the young ladies insisted on going to a 
dance, in spite of the admonitions of President Finney. 
The next morning he met her on the street and stopping 
said, ‘Good morning, child of the devil.’ She looked 
at him with a bright smile and replied, ‘Good morning, 
father.’ 

“President Finney,” the Squire continued after the 
laugh had subsided, “was of a nervous temperament and 
when he went anywhere he almost ran. Professor Mor- 
gan, a good old soul, was just the opposite of President 
Finney. He was slow moving both in speech and action. 
President Finney was always chaffing the professor for 


THE PA TRIOT 


103 

his slowness. One morning as the President was going 
down town, he stopped and rang the professor’s door 
bell, then went out to the gate as if to go on down town. 
Just as he was well started Professor Morgan opened 
the door, then President Finney stopped and said, ‘O, I 
thought I would ring as I went down and you would 
just about be getting to the door as I came back.’ ” 

The young people laughed heartily at these stories 
of the Squire, and he, well pleased at the way his 
reminiscences were received, told another incident as 
follows : “The most exciting time, however, was when a 
runaway slave was closely pursued. I remember one 
incident as if it had been but yesterday. A man came 
flying into town one day driving his horses at a fearful 
pace. He had a runaway slave in his wagon. He was 
closely pursued by two men on horse back. We were 
just coming out of chapel, a great crowd of us. The 
negro jumped out and took refuge in our midst. The 
two men rode up and one shouted, ‘Gentlemen, the man 
you have there is my property and my slave Jim !’ ” 

At these words of the Squire, Burton sat up straight 
and looked at him with startled eyes. Then he grew 
deathly white as the Squire continued, giving the speech 
of the planter : “ ‘Jim has committed the crime of mur- 
der in his native state. If I do not take him back where 
he will confess, I will in all probability have to suffer 
for the deed that he has committed.’ I was a sort of 
leader,” the Squire continued, “of the abolitionists and 
when the man made this accusation some of the students 


104 


THE PA TRIOT 


conferred a few moments and then I was pushed forward 
to make a reply. I stepped out and informed the gen- 
tleman that we believed that he was lying. That he told 
a very neat story, but that we must refuse to give the 
slave over. I told him that even though he did suffer 
death for the crime that his slave had committed, if he 
was telling the truth, that it would be nothing but right 
because of their execrable system of holding their slaves. 
Then the man and his comrade tried to capture Jim, as 
he called him, but we spirited the negro away. 

“That night I was detailed, with two mates, to take 
Jim and by some means to get him to Canada. We 
went to Lorain, ordered a sail boat and started. A 
squall came upon us when we were out about ten miles, 
our sail boat was overturned and my partners were 
drowned almost immediately. Jim, the slave, hung on 
for a long time. He was a very coarse looking fellow; 
I was almost afraid of him, he looked so fierce. At 
last Jim grew very weak and finally let go of the boat. 
As he went down I heard him gurgle, Tt is the jedgment 
of Gawd upon me fo’ gettin’ massa in trouble/ I often 
wondered if after all that planter’s story was not true, 
and how the matter came out. I was picked up by a 
passing schooner about an hour after Jim drowned.” 

As the Squire ceased speaking Burton arose and 
almost staggered across the room to the door and went 
out. Mary followed him and called. He stopped, came 
back, and then said, “Mary, you remember that I told 
you certain people had connection with an incident at 


THE PA TRIOT 


105 

Oberlin, that brought great sadness into our family life. 
Your father’s story has revealed to me that he was one 
of the chief actors in that incident. O, Mary, I feel as 
if I would go mad. I must go home, sleep or think or 
do something, or I will lose my mind. Good night.” 

As Mary turned with sinking heart to go into the 
house she recalled Burton’s speech to her that evening 
in the church when he said so bitterly, “If I knew per- 
sonally any one who had a part in that transaction, I 
would try not, but I know that I should hate him and 
all that was his.” “My heart is breaking,” cried Mary 
to herself in her room. “Father was the leader, Rob 
must hate him, and I am his daughter. O, my God, is 
my happiness to be only of two hours’ duration?” 

When Burton left Mary he walked slowly and weakly 
homeward. He was almost crazed with the fall he had 
received, and with the facts that he had just learned 
from the reminiscences of Squire Colter. His thoughts 
were in a turmoil. As he stumbled along he muttered 
to himself, — “Squire Colter, then, is one of those who 
has brought the name of Burton into the dust. He is 
one who has helped to make our honored name a by-word 
in the state of Kentucky. He is the one who tried to 
help the nigger to freedom, is he? He told my father 
that he was a liar, that it was but just that father should 
suffer death for the system of slavery. He was one who 
broke the law that brought disastrous consequences upon 
me and mine. I cannot think. I must hate him. I 
have trained myself through all these years to look with 


io6 


THE PA TRIOT 


horror upon any one who had anything to do with that 
hateful act of law breaking in Oberlin so many years 
ago. And now that I have found him, I hate him, I 
despise him, he is a villain, I hate him and all his. O, 
no, my God ! I do not hate that pure flower of woman- 
hood, whose lips have touched mine, whose heart beats 
true, whose life has been given me for my careful care. 
God is good. I see His benign hand in it all. I was 
planning to hate this man and his family, but Thou, O 
good God, hast made to grow up in my heart a love that 
roots up all hate. A love that is divine. Mary, thou 
art a jewel that lightens my night of despair, thou art 
a star that shineth into this the darkness of my sinful 
hate. I thank thee, O God, that thou hast brought this 
bud of loveliness into my life, her eyes scintillate thy 
truth, her heart beats in tune with thee and thy ways. 
She has turned the course of my life, which was being 
eaten up by selfish brooding, into the paths of righteous- 
ness and love. I was becoming heartless by allowing 
this hate to gnaw at the citadel of my life. I was be- 
coming self-centered, thinking only of my own wrong, 
but Thou hast given me this woman whom I cherish as 
an angel from heaven ; Thou art always teaching man the 
way of salvation. Tomorrow I will go to her and tell 
her that no earthly care or wrong shall ever separate us.” 

With such thoughts Burton plodded on home. To- 
morrow, he told himself, he would go to Mary and ask 
her forgiveness for rushing away so unceremoniously. 

I heard him when he came in. He stopped at my 


THE PA TRIOT 


107 


door and said, “Duke, I wish you would come in awhile, 
smoke and keep quiet in your good old way. I must 
have company, but I can’t talk nor do I want to be 
talked to.” 

“All right, Rob,” I answered, “I was about to take 
a last pipe and then seek the arms of Morpheus. I 
would just as soon smoke in your room as mine, a little 
rather in fact, as my good tobacco is all gone and I 
must smoke some of that birthday present stuff that you 
gave me.” 

Burton did not smile at this sally, but went on 
quietly preparing for bed, tumbled in and was soon 
sleeping heavily. I could not imagine what had de- 
pressed him so, and thought that it was only the effects 
of his fall. In the morning he awoke with a slight fever. 
The doctor was called. When he examined Burton he 
looked quite serious and said, “No preaching tomorrow 
by you, my man. You have had a hard physical jar, 
but that isn’t all. Your brain has also had some great 
conflict. You are lucky not to be suffering with brain 
fever. You must remain absolutely quiet for three days 
at least.” 


CHAPTER X. 

AN ANONYMOUS LETTER. 


Mary spent a miserable night after the picnic when 
Burton went away, after telling her that the Squire’s 
reminiscences had shown him that his father and hers 
had met years ago. Why must those things that had 
happened so long ago come into their lives and make 
them miserable, she asked herself. If Rob would only 
come back and talk with her for a few moments, she 
knew that the horrible tangle would soon be unraveled, 
that the misunderstanding would be cleared away, and 
that all would be well. Then she would think of his 
speech at the church and would be cast into deep gloom. 

The next afternoon she learned that Burton was 
sick. When she knew this, she went out into the woods 
back of the house, gathered some flowers, then she drove 
over to Richton and left them for him. She inquired of 
Mrs. Menson how he was. When she learned that the 
doctor had ordered him to stay in bed for three days at 
least, and that he was to see no one, she drove sadly 
home, for she had planned to go to the city with her 
friends for a visit of two weeks. She did not know 
what might happen in two weeks. All she could do under 
the circumstances was to have Mrs. Menson give him 
the flowers and ask her to tell him that she was going 
away for a time. 

108 


THE PA TRIOT 


109 


It was a week before Burton was able to be out of 
the house. With his strong constitution, though, he soon 
regained his usual strength. He cherished Mary’s little 
bouquet, as if she had gone away into a far country. 

Richton was rather quiet the week Burton was in 
bed. Bill Carter had gone away a few days previous 
to that. 

Bill came back to Richton shortly after Burton was 
up and around. He called his colleagues together the 
night he arrived. The next morning they were highly 
elated over some news that he had brought with him. 

A few days after Bill’s return the trustees of Bur- 
ton’s church, Mary Colter, the Squire and a few others 
received the following letter: 

“Kind Friends : — Our peaceful and law-abiding com- 
munity has lately been cast into disturbance by the act 
of one man. This man has taken it upon himself to 
make us walk after his own narrow ideas. He has made 
an attack on every man’s personal liberty. This gentle- 
man, for so he styles himself, when he is far away from 
the land of his nativity, is pastor of our beloved church. 

“It is always well for one who desires to guide the 
present to be not only a man, in the fullest sense of 
that word, in his own day and generation, but he must 
have a clean record from his youth up. He must also 
come from a good stock. 

“Such being the fact, it was of interest to a few of 
us to look up this man’s past. We were greatly and 
grievously shocked at the result. We learned the fol- 


no 


THE PATRIOT 


lowing. His father was tried and convicted for murder 
in the state of Kentucky. He died an inmate of the 
penitentiary nearly thirty years ago. The murder was 
committed in the most cold blooded way, upon one of 
the high officials of Kentucky. It was one of the most 
dastardly deeds in the annals of crime. 

“Since our Pastor Burton has been of age, now 
about seven years, he has not lived in his native state. 
It was probably too hot for him there. He was held in 
too great odium, for he, it gives us great pain to tell it, 
but we must do it in the interests of truth and right- 
eousness, he, as well as his father, was an inmate of the 
penitentiary. Friends, think of it, our Pastor Burton 
was in the pen for one year. We were not able to learn 
the crime for which he was incarcerated. 

“Such is some of the history of the man who has 
dared to speak from the pulpit about our lawless con- 
dition, as he is pleased to call it. We can verify all 
these statements, and trust that they will be given due 
heed, for we are only looking for our community’s high- 
est welfare. We do not wish ‘to blow our own horns/ 
in this deed of righteousness and good will toward our 
neighbors and friends, so we beg leave to subscribe 
ourselves, 

“The Vigilance Committee.” 

“P. S. We will prove these statements to be true 
in the following way. In a short time we will present, 
secretly, to Mr. Burton the evidence that we have col- 
lected, and we give our word that when he sees what 


THE PATRIOT 


hi 


we have secured that he will disappear from Richton. 
It will be a grand and glorious riddance, for he is a man 
who is destined to keep whatever community he lives 
in, in a continual disturbance. 

“T. V. C.” 

The trustees of the church, when they received this 
letter, were greatly flurried. They called a meeting at 
once to talk the matter over. There were five members 
on the board, and when they met there were five different 
opinions in regard to the matter. 

Deacon Hawkins said, “I am inclined" to think there 
is something in the letter that is true. It is worded so 
nicely. Then the writer seems to love this dear old 
church of ours, and wants to do something for its good.” 

Deacon Moore said, “I don’t believe a word of the 
whole thing. I would never have shown the one that I 
received, if I had not thought that the rest of you had 
received one. I am in favor of burning them. A man 
or men who hide behind an anonymous letter are knaves 
and liars and you can depend on that.” 

Trustee Williams said, “Perhaps Mr. Burton will hear 
about these letters and would like to know their contents. 
I think that we had better go in a body to his study, 
and ask him what we had better do about the matter.” 

They all agreed to this and went to call on Burton. 
They found him at home. After they had talked for a 
time on various topics, Deacon Hawkins handed him 
one of the letters. As Burton read, they gleaned no 
knowledge of his feelings from his face, for it was as 


1 1 2 


THE PA TRIOT 


impassive as a marble bust. When he had finished read- 
ing he asked, “Well, gentlemen, I suppose you know 
who the writers or writer is that has sent you this letter ; 
the one who hides behind this wonderful name, The 
Vigilance Committee’ ?” 

“No,” answered Deacon Hawkins, “we are as much 
in the dark as you are.” 

“O,” replied Burton, “I am not much in the dark 
about the matter. I have an idea that I could lay my 
finger on the chap that has written this. What are you 
trustees going to do about it?” 

“We came to ask your advice,” answered Deacon 
Hawkins. “Probably it would be better for you to 
deny the charges made, so that we can go on as usual.” 

“I decline,” answered Burton sharply, “to deny any 
charges or to take any notice of them when they are 
made by some one who dares not sign his name. If I 
was not personally concerned in the matter I would 
advise you, but as it is I do not care to say anything 
about it.” 

“You were born in Kentucky, were you not?” queried 
Deacon Hawkins. 

“Yes, Kentucky, beautiful old Kentucky, was my 
home for many years,” answered Burton. 

“Can’t you tell us something of your life there, Mr. 
Burton?” asked Deacon Hawkins. 

“No, not today,” replied Burton. “It had nothing 
to do in qualifying me as your pastor. It has nothing 
to do with my being here. I was duly ordained and 


THE PA TRIOT 


ii 3 

you have all seen my papers. I presented my letters 
from my college and seminary professors who knew 
me intimately for a period of seven years. You ap- 
proved of them and called me on the strength of them. 
My past has nothing to do with the present, no matter 
what my calling. If a man is born anew God blots out 
the past, even though it is black with crime; man must 
do likewise. Consequently I shall go on just as if this 
never occurred. You were not interested in my boyhood 
days before and I do not see why you manifest such 
interest now, unless you are suspicious. ,, 

“What about the threat that the writer makes in the 
last part of the letter,” asked Trustee Williams, “about 
the fact that you will disappear?” 

“Why, I shall worry about that no more than I do 
about the other part of it,” replied Burton, as he bowed 
the trustees out and went back to his study. 

When Mary received her anonymous letter, she re- 
called what Burton had said to her the day in the boat, 
that he would tell her about his past life before binding 
her to him. As she read she laughed aloud and said, 
“Does any one think that my love is given so lightly 
that it can be turned in a moment, especially since I have 
looked in his clear blue eyes and have seen his soul. 
No, I know that he is good now, and if he wants me 
he can have me. I care nothing about his past. I 
love him. I’ll send him the letter with a postscript of 
my own.” 

She then sat down and wrote on the bottom of the 


THE PATRIOT 


114 

letter, “I have just come home and find this letter in 
the mail for me. I want you never to refer to it. I 
care not what charges have been made against you. 
When I saw you lying so white and helpless the day of 
the picnic I gave you my heart, for you had asked it. 
It is yours and ever will be. My heart was not given 
to the Rob Burton of the past, so I care nothing about 
him, but it was given to you of the present and future. 
My heart tells me that you are true. I have not seen 
you for two weeks. We parted when you had learned 
of my father’s action at Oberlin about your father’s 
slave. You said that you were in doubt. I do not know 
absolutely what the outcome has been, but I promised 
to be yours and I am acting as I promised. It seems 
to me that you have fought a hard battle and won, and 
you are mine and I am yours. The past is dead. You 
will be gladly welcomed at any time, the sooner the 
better. Your Mary.” 

When Burton received this letter of Mary’s he read 
and re-read it and the joyous tears sprang to his eyes 
as he kissed her name again and again. He murmured 
incoherently, “I thank thee, O God, for such a treasure. 
May I prove worthy and manly for her sake.” 


CHAPTER XI. 

BILL CARTER'S WIFE. 


Bill Carter had a most excellent wife. A good 
woman is often attached to a bad man, but seldom a 
good man to a bad woman. Almost invariably a woman 
will stay with a sot of a husband and continue to slave 
for him; but, let the breath of scandal touch a man’s 
wife and he rushes to get a divorce, or has her get it, 
and then he poses as a chivalrous knight. 

Generally a woman who has a drunken husband 
thinks that sufficient excuse has been made when she 
says, “O, he is so good when he is sober.” This is 
manifestly untrue, but too deep for woman’s logic, so it 
is useless to tell her that he is not good when he is 
sober or he would never get drunk. 

Bill Carter and Millie Jones were married when they 
were comparatively young. Milly was but eighteen, and 
Bill, or William, as he was then called, was only twenty- 
two. They had now been married nearly twenty years 
and Bill’s bright prospects had gone a-glimmering. He 
was now content to be a pettifogger. Lately his aspira- 
tions had fallen even short of that redeeming quality, if 
there was ever any in it. 

They had one child, a little four-year-old lass whose 
eyes were a bit of the clear blue sky, whose curls were 
stolen sunbeams, and her cheeks were a reflection of a 
crimson cloud at sundown. 


n6 


THE PA TR10T 


Little Helen and Burton were great friends. He 
liked children, and whenever he went by Carter’s gate, 
if she was in the yard he always stopped for a chat. He 
took her out riding with him, whenever he could pur- 
suade Mrs. Carter to let her go, which she was very 
reluctant to, for she clung more and more to Helen, as 
Bill became worse. 

The -day after the church trustees had been to see 
Burton about the anonymous letter, he was going by 
Carter’s gate and saw Helen playing in the yard. As he 
stopped to talk with her, he noticed a blue mark on one 
of her little baby cheeks. 

“Why, Helen, sweetheart,” he said, “how did you 
hurt your cheek so badly?” 

“Papa s’apped me with a big naughty stick,” lisped 
Helen. 

“Is that so? Poor little cheek. Where is your mama, 
honey?” asked Burton. 

“Her’s in the house c’ying an’ c’ying all the time. 
Helen hugged mama, but she c’y all lots more,” continued 
Helen plaintively. 

“Well, I’m going in to see her. Come along with 
me,” replied Burton. 

It was too true, as Burton learned from the tearful 
replies of Mrs. Carter. Bill had come home the night 
before in a more intoxicated condition than usual. He 
was very angry because of the loss of some money 
while gambling. Mrs. Carter did not have supper ready 
and he struck her. It was the first time he had ever 


THE PA TRIOT 


117 

done such a thing and the poor woman was heart broken. 
Then he had picked up the poker to fix the fire, and 
as he staggered about he struck Helen. This seemed 
to sober him for a moment, and then he became more 
violent than before. Mrs. Carter, frightened at his con- 
duct, had grabbed Helen and run from the house for 
her very life. She asked Burton what to do about the 
matter. 

He said, “Perhaps it was a sudden outbreak. You 
say that he has never acted so badly before. It is hardly 
likely that he will continue in the same bad way. Per- 
haps he will now straighten up for a time and be all right. 
Keep a close watch and don’t let him hurt you or 
Helen. She is very dear to me, Mrs. Carter; I would 
not have her harmed for the world. If at any time you 
want my help or advice I will be glad to do all that I 
can. Good by, Mrs. Carter; good by, Helen. Come 
and give me a kiss, sweetheart, before I go down town.” 

“O, I ’ike ’00, Mr. Burton. ’Oo is awful dood. 
Tome and see us ’ots, for we gets ’onesome.” 

“All right, Helen, I will come as often as I can, 
for you are one of my little girls.” 

As Burton was going out of the gate he met Bill 
coming home, who stopped and said, “What are you 
doing in my house ?” 

“I am attending to my duties as pastor of this church. 
Your wife is a member, you know,” answered Burton. 

“You can stay out,” said Bill, fiercely, “I can give 
her all the spiritual advice she needs.” 


1 18 


THE PA TRIOT 


“Look here, Carter/’ said Burton, “if I had such a 
wife as you have and such a little angel as Helen is, I 
would give up the last drop of my blood or anything 
to be a man for their sake. ,, 

“Thanks, parson,” scoffed Bill, “all I can do for you 
is to request that you will depart to that place from 
which you are trying to rescue such specimens of hu- 
manity as myself. But remember this, I want you to keep 
out of my house.” 

“As far as that matter is concerned, I will do just 
as Mrs. Carter requests me,” said Burton. 

At this reply Bill turned and went into the house, 
cursing and saying that he would soon reveal to his 
wife her duty. He stepped inside muttering curses, but 
Mrs. Carter was out, and he found only Helen there, 
and she fanned the flame by saying, “Papa, ’oo isn’t nice 
man like Mr. Burton.” 

“So,” said Bill, “that preacher has been teaching 
my child to hate her father, has he ? That’s a fine speci- 
men of Christianity, I must say.” There is no man who 
knows better, in his own opinion, the ethics of Chris- 
tianity than the worldly, sinful man. “The Bible says,” 
continued Bill, “that children shall honor their parents, 
but this sneaking, crying parson has been in here and 
by his ways and speech is creating a disgust in her 
heart for me. Devilish scamp, I will repay him.” 

“Papa, Mr. Burton kissed me, and I ’ike him ’ike 
everfing,” lisped Helen. 

“He did, did he? Well, I’ll wager he doesn’t do it 
again,” Bill growled. 


THE PATRIOT 


119 

Just then Mrs. Carter came in and Bill said to her, 
“I met the preacher at the gate, and he took the oppor- 
tunity to give me a little sound advice. I told him that 
I didn’t want his advice, and furthermore that I didn’t 
want him calling in here. He said it would all depend 
on your wishes. Now if you ask him to come I assure 
you that you will rue the day. I hate the fellow and 
I don’t want him sneaking around. Madam, you will 
please give me your word that you will not ask him in 
here on any account.” 

“Will,” she replied, “I decline to do anything of the 
kind. Mr. Burton is my pastor, and as such he is 
always welcome here. I fear that I may need his coun- 
self if he is kind enough not to ignore me in my distress 
and degradation. I will be glad to confer with him, 
for he is a man to be trusted.” 

“Madam, you will promise as I request,” shouted 
Bill hoarsely, “or you will be sorry. Will you promise?” 

He waited a moment for her answer, but as she 
went on quietly with some mending that she had taken 
up, and did not answer, he rushed madly out of the 
door, and down town to his old haunts. 

Bill staggered back home just about supper time. 
He was raging drunk and staggered up the street swear- 
ing like a pirate. A number of men, some of the leading 
citizens of Rich ton, stood and watched him. True it 
was against the village ordinance for a drunk man to 
be on the village streets, but then they were not ordained 
to see that it was enforced. “No, indeed,” they said to 


120 


THE PATRIOT 


themselves, “must every citizen be a law and order 
league ?” and they turned away with a shrug. They 
must have been thinking of Burton's sermon of a few 
weeks before. 

A moment afterward Bill entered his home. He had 
been inside only a short time when Mrs. Carter came 
running out, screaming wildly. The men looked and 
saw to their horror that her clothes were on fire. They 
rushed over in a body and threw off their coats, and 
wrapped them about her. In this way they extinguished 
the flames, but not before she had been horribly burned 
about the chest, neck and face. 

Burton and I, who lived a block above, went running 
down, for we heard distinctly the screams of Mrs. Car- 
ter. Some one asked her if she would be taken back into 
the house. She feebly shook her head. 

Then Burton said, “Take her and Helen up to our 
house. There is a spare room and Mrs. Menson is a 
splendid nurse. If anything can be done for her we will 
do it” 

They carried here there and made her as comfortable 
as possible. When the doctor came and saw the extent 
of her burns he sadly shook his head. He told us when 
he came out of the room that there was no hope of her 
recovery. That she might linger a week or ten days, 
but that she would die. 

Burton concluded, after conferring with others, that 
a trained nurse from the city would make Mrs. Carter 
more comfortable, so one was sent for. 


THE PATRIOT 


121 


In a couple of days, when Mrs. Carter was resting 
somewhat more easily, Burton asked her, “How did it 
happen, Mrs. Carter, that your dress caught fire?” 

At first she refused to say anything. She lay still 
a moment, then said in a broken whisper, “I was frying 
some meat; the grease flew out upon my dress, and 
then it caught fire.” 

“You were not pushed by Helen or by any one so 
that you fell upon the stove?” asked Burton quietly. 

She closed her lips tightly for a moment, and then 
said, “The grease flew out upon my dress and then 
caught fire.” 

“Very well,” he replied. “Now, is there anything 
that I can do ? I brought some oranges from the store ; 
would you like the nurse to give you one?” 

She indicated that she would like one. 

During this time Helen and Burton became still bet- 
ter friends. He gave her many a ride upon his horse, 
holding her as he walked by her side. They had many 
a romp on the grass, and the nurse had to caution him 
again and again not to give her so much candy. 

About a week after receiving her burns Mrs. Carter 
asked to see Burton. It was now evident to all that she 
was growing weaker very rapidly. 

“Mr. Burton,” she said, when he was seated by her 
bedside, “you think a great deal of Helen, don’t you?” 

“Why, yes, Mrs. Carter. Helen is my little treasure. 
I don’t know how I am going to get along withouVher.” 

“O, Mr. Burton,” she said eagerly, “I want you to 
take Helen and keep her when I am gone.” 


122 


THE PA TRIOT 


“Would it not be better to give her to some one 
who could mother her?” he asked. “You know that I am 
an unmarried man.” 

“Mr. Burton, you will not always be unmarried, and 
if it is the one I think it is I could wish her no better 
mother. Mary loves Helen as well as you do, and when 
j'ou are married you will treat her as your own. Won’t 
you, please?” 

“But how about Mr. Carter?” asked Burton, some- 
what embarrassed because of her reference to Mary. 

“Never, never, never, must he have her,” she said 
with unnatural strength. 

A lawyer was called in and her wish was made 
out in legal form. Two days afterwards Mrs. Carter 
slipped quietly away into that land where there is no 
pain. 

Burton made application to the court to adopt Helen 
as his child. Bill Carter fought the application with all 
the power that he had, but his general reputation was 
against him and the desire of Mrs. Carter prevailed. 
Helen was given to Burton as his own, and was happy 
with him. 

This giving away of his child increased Bill’s hatred 
toward Burton. He said, “Perhaps the child will be 
better off under some one else’s care than mine. Perhaps 
I am getting to care a little too much for whiskey. 
But give her to some one else, let me have a choice. 
It is the irony of fate that she should be given into 
this preacher’s care. I give this community warning 


THE P AT RIOT 


123 


that in some way she will be taken from him. I will 
not have her there, for if he had stayed away from my 
house my wife would be alive today. Curse him! I 
have a big account to settle. Curse him! Curse him! 
I will repay and not wait for the Lord!” 

The threats of Bill were thought to be nothing but 
the maudlin talk of a drunken man. There was some 
talk of having Bill arrested for causing the death of his 
wife, for the circumstances were suspicious. However, 
in her conversation with Burton she had said that it 
was caused by the burning grease, and so the matter 
was only talked for a little while and then was dropped. 


CHAPTER XII. 

BILL CARTER AN ADVOCATE OF THE “HIGHER LAW.” 

A couple of weeks after Mrs. Carter’s death, Burton 
thought he had sufficient evidence to bring Bill Carter 
and his co-lawbreakers into court and have a conviction. 
With this in view he had some of them arrested. 

At the trial Squire Colter exerted his influence, as 
leader of one of the political parties, in behalf of Bill 
and his associates. Deacon Hawkins, who was leader 
of the other political party, gave his help toward freeing 
the culprits. They were both bidding for the votes of 
the rowdies for the fall election. Of course they did 
not give that as the reason, but every one knew very 
well, especially the rowdies. The Squire said to Bur- 
ton, “Of course I believe that these fellows are break- 
ing the law, but what in the world is the use of airing 
the matter? They don’t come out boldly and draw the 
young men of respectable families into their carousals. 
As long as they keep under cover let them alone is my 
advice.” 

“Squire,” said Burton earnestly, “I know that they 
do draw young men into these things. May God forgive 
me for suggesting it, if it proves untrue, but the way 
things are going I am afraid you will be sorry to the 
day of your death that you have not helped to enforce the 


124 


THE PATRIOT 


I2 S 

law, and drive these rowdies out of here or make them 
stop their meanness.” 

“O, we will see, we will see,” replied the Squire 
easily, “you are of an excitable temperament, your 
Southern blood I suppose. It is because you are in- 
clined to look at things so one-sidedly that I hesitated 
to give my consent to your engagement to Mary. But 
cheer up, things are not so bad here as you think.” 

“Very well, Squire,” answered Burton, “but you had 
better guard Charlie a little more closely. 

“Charlie is all right, sir,” snapped the Squire. 

After the trial, which resulted in no conviction, Bill 
arranged to have a great blow out. It was to be a sort 
of jubilee, for they felt that now they had the express 
permission of the solid element of the community to go 
on with their lawlessness, if they only kept under cover. 

Bill had quietly given out that he expected to make 
the speech of his life in justification of their attitude 
in breaking the liquor law, also that he would point out 
new fields where they might revel in personal liberty. 

Bill was smart and could make a good speech. When 
he was half drunk he was fluent and eloquent. His 
parents had trained him as best they knew how and 
had educated him at college. They were now dead. 
Bill in his early youth had studied for the ministry. 
He had been a leading Adventist, and his ideas had 
been accepted quite generally. At one time he appointed 
a fixed date for the end of the world. The night set 
he and his father had gotten on a hay stack, expecting 


126 


THE PATRIOT 


to be caught up into glory. Chagrined at his failure as 
a prophet, Bill turned into a scoffer of all religion. Since 
then he had been going down. Now he was nothing 
more than an educated scoundrel, thus a leader and 
most dangerous. 

When the crowd on the night of the jubilee had been 
gathered for some time, Bill, who had drunk enough 
to make him talkative, arose and began, “I wish to con- 
gratulate you, gentlemen, as well as your illustrious 
leader, myself, on our recent vindication when we came 
before the public.” 

Bill spoke in his usual cynical tone. It was always 
hard to tell whether he meant what he said on most 
occasions, but as he always carried out the maxims he 
laid down no one objected. 

Bill continued, “We came near being made the vic- 
tims of one man’s ill-timed zeal and monstrous notions. 
He claimed that we broke the law. I see that you all 
smile. Of course we broke the law, and in this meeting 
are breaking it, but if every time some one breaks the 
law some fool is going to rise up and howl about it then 
I am sure that I don’t know what this world, and espe- 
cially this nation, is coming to. Now, gentlemen, laws 
are not made to be obeyed; they are made to ease the 
consciences of W. C. T. U.’s and men who have soften- 
ing of the brain. Laws! Why, no man obeys a law 
he doesn’t believe in if he can avoid it. Some break 
them because they don’t believe in them, and some break 
them because they say they are obeying a higher power 


THE PA TRIOT 


127 


than the state. I belong to the last company. But to 
whichever company you adhere, you will have a large 
and respectable crowd to go with you. 

“Take a trip with me for a moment to a prosperous 
city on the great Father of Waters, a city that is a saint, 
but has sadly fallen from grace according to those who, 
like our poor preacher, think that law was made to be 
obeyed. But Saint Louis is a saint still in my estimation, 
and deserves a high place upon the column of fame. She 
has been able to draw all classes into the newer and 
brighter realm of lawlessness. Millionaires have vied 
with each other trying to see which could steal the most, 
great railroads entered the scramble to obtain the great 
crown of unrighteousness. Policemen, draymen, rail- 
road officials, lawyers, clerks and great capitalists entered 
the race for spoil, looting and anarchy. Long may they 
live ! It is such imbeciles as our preacher who retard the 
wheels of progress. May the day soon come, like it was 
in the time of Israel of old, when every man will be a law 
unto himself, that glad time for which some of us kill 
kings and presidents, to hasten its appearing. 

“From great cities turn to individuals, who, because 
of the great wealth they have amassed, are now received 
with honor into the educational and moral circles. By 
entering into the higher realm of lawlessness they ob- 
tained it. To get into this realm, friends, is the surest 
road to obtain money, happiness and personal freedom. 

“The great university donor, a grand and good man, 
wished to stop the waste of having many handle oil, also 


128 


THE PA TR10T 


having in view the fact that he could in this way endow 
colleges, entered the charmed circle of lawlessness. He 
found a law that prohibited rebates, but he believed in 
rebates, so he became one with the thug, one with the 
saloon keeper, one with the footpad, the burglar, and the 
one who takes a pop at the president, who embodies law. 
Gentlemen, if I were a shouter like many a religious 
enthusiast, for such men as Rockefeller, Morgan, Van- 
derbilt, the coal barons, the railroad kings, I would say 
again and again: Glory! Glory! Glory! for they have 
made our pathway smooth. They have been the van- 
guard and have removed the rocks that might have 
wrecked our frail craft, when we but wanted to sail the 
shallow waters of a little fun, that some call law break- 
ing. 

“But we are safe. These great examples have finally 
influenced even such staid old American communities as 
Richton. 

“You know as well as the people who do it about 
here, and then hold their heads so mighty high, that the 
man who makes a correct estimate of his property to the 
assessor is as rare as the egg of the extinct roc. O glad 
day of lawlessness ! We are in thy name all one. ,, 

“Into Chicago goes Attorney General Trickett of 
Kansas and shows plainly that the mayor and the officers 
high and low are law breakers. Listen to these words 
from The Advance, a paper published in that city, a 
paper that is up to date on civic questions, even though 


THE PA TRIOT 


129 


it’s a sad mossback in theology, as some say. Listen to 
its words: 

LAWLESS JURIES. 

“ The Chicago courts, the newspapers and the pub- 
lic have been seriously disturbed by the last verdict in 
the Sunday closing saloon case. There was no question 
about the evidence. The defense admitted the charge 
that the accused had kept his saloon open on Sunday. 
And there was no question before the jury regarding the 
law, for the court instructed it that the law was on the 
statute book, had never been repealed by the only au- 
thority that could repeal it, and was perfectly clear. The 
law forbids the sale or giving away of liquors in a 
saloon on Sunday. The accused admitted that he had 
done what this law forbade. Therefore there was noth- 
ing for the jury to do but to bring in a verdict of guilty. 
But this was just what the jury did not do. It brought in 
a verdict of not guilty. And it did so because it wanted 
to do so. The law was simply set aside by the jury in 
the interest of the saloon keepers and of that part of the 
public which wants saloons open on Sunday. 

“ Tt is not strange, therefore, that Chicago is agi- 
tated. For, as one of the state’s attorneys said, the mean- 
ing of such a verdict is anarchy. And of all forms of 
anarchy this is the worst. The man who waves a red 
flag or who tramps on the American flag can be put down, 
but when juries tramp on the law we all fall down. 

“ ‘But this one verdict would not in itself be so dis- 
turbing if it were not in line with a growing tendency. 


THE PA TRIOT 


130 

In some notable murder cases here in Chicago and in 
other places juries have coolly set the law aside and ren- 
dered verdicts according to their sentiment. Neither 
law nor evidence controlled them. They did as they 
pleased. Moreover, men know before they take their 
place in the jury box that the do-as-your-please lawless 
spirit is abroad in the land. Everybody in Chicago who 
reads the newspapers knows that the present mayor re- 
moved members of the public school board without a 
shadow of law to support him, as the Supreme Court has 
just declared; and in defiance both of law and the de- 
cision of the court of last resort he still keeps these mem- 
bers out of their places. If men high in office do such 
lawless things, what can be expected of the average man, 
who is more apt to be influenced by a concrete example 
than by a legal distinction? If the authorities of Chicago 
had not so often and so defiantly been lawless, the city 
would not now need to be lamenting its failure to get a 
decent verdict from a jury/ 

“Now I come to the second part of my discourse. 
Perhaps there are some present whose consciences are 
tender, and they are a little squeamish about helping to 
bring about the glad time when our nation will be irre- 
vocably in the power of the law-breakers. Some may be 
backward, I say, some one who has been tied all his life 
to the apron strings of patriotism. If there is such a 
one present let him join the ranks that I have joined, let 
him come forth and be a 'higher law’ convert. 

“Such were they who helped the fleeing negroes, as 


THE PA TRIOT 


131 

our beloved pastor has told us in his memorable dis- 
course. This is the very highest help that we law break- 
ers can secure. Do you not approve of the liquor pro- 
hibitory law? Why, then, let your conscience whisper 
to you that a ‘higher law’ permits you to break it? Do 
you think that the law against stealing is too severe? 
Then have a revelation that the ‘higher law’ permits you 
to take on all sides. Does your neighbor’s barn stand in 
your way so that you cannot see down town, and you 
have been unable to remove it by legal process? Then 
take ‘higher law’ into your own bosom and some dark 
night go forth, when none but God can see, and let a 
little ‘higher law’ touch a match to the obnoxious old 
barn. This ‘higher law’ plea has untold possibilities. 
Has a personal hatred grown up in your life? Has any 
wrong come to you in any way? Do you despair? Go 
forth and let ‘higher law’ speak to your soul and then you 
can cure the thing in your own way. 

“Suppose a man has come into your life and has 
woefully humiliated you before your fellows; suppose 
that by his words and acts that he is trying to take away 
your freedom to eat and drink what you please ; suppose 
that he has gone into your home and by his miserable 
tongue has spoken words into the ears of your beloved 
wife, and that these foul methods made her spurn his 
caresses, and that she in her infatuation brought upon 
herself death; suppose that you have a little darling 
whose eyes looked love into your own, whose sunbeam 
ringlets curled about your finger, even as her soul is 
wrapped in yours; suppose that this villain takes away 


132 


THE PA TRIOT 


this child that is the apple of your eye and trains her to 
hate the name of her father; suppose all this to be true, 
and then this hateful system of law upholds the man in 
his dastardly deeds. It gives him honor, and metes out 
to you dishonor ; it exalts him while it makes you crawl 
in the ditch of despond. What would you do? Then 
the heavens open. You have peace whispered to your soul, 
for your conscience says to you, as it did years ago to 
those who gave the black man freedom before the law 
did, and even against the law there is a ‘higher law/ 
Like to Caiaphias of old, a voice of prophecy whispers 
to me, to me, a wronged man, ‘It is expedient that one 
man should die rather than that a whole community 
should be in a turmoil/ 

“You have heard me, gentlemen, you know my heart. 
Bill has stood by you in times past and helped many to 
escape the clutches of the law. Will you stand by Bill? 
Your conscience need not trouble you. A ‘higher law’ 
excuse can be used to soothe the scared ones, whatever 
may be done. Raise your hands and voices and say, 
‘Here is to Bill and his revenge/ ” 

They all shouted, “We are with you, Bill!” 

A committee of six men were selected to confer with 
Bill. The six were the most dangerous and hardened 
men of the community. No one else knew exactly what 
Bill meant by his enigmatical speech. These seven talked 
long and earnestly, and then the gathering broke up with 
hurrahs and yelling for the good times they had had 
and for future possibilities. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

A LOST CHILD. 


It was now generally known by Richton people that 
Burton and Mary were engaged to be married. The 
Squire had given his consent, but was not very enthu- 
siastic about the matter; Mrs. Colter seemed willing to 
have it so only because of her love for Mary; Charlie 
was violently opposed to the whole thing but did nothing 
outwardly. 

Mary and Burton went out riding a great deal and 
they always had Helen with them. She had become their 
treasure. She was very bright for her age and enter- 
tained them royally with her quaint and original ques- 
tions. 

The day after Bill had made his cynical speech advo- 
cating obedience to the “higher law/’ Burton was out 
driving with Mary and Helen. They passed Bill, who 
glowered at them darkly. As Mary noticed him, she 
said with a shudder, “That man is getting to be a regular 
nightmare to me. It always seems to me that he has 
some dark and sinister plot simmering. I am sure he is 
greatly displeased at your having Helen.” 

“Yes, he is,” answered Burton. “I’ve tried to get a 
word with him a number of times. I have thought since 
I have Helen that he would come around to see her 
sometimes, that he might be led into something better, 
*33 


134 


THE PA TRIOT 


but he absolutely refuses to speak to me any more. I 
understand from what I have heard others say that he 
would rather that any one else in Richton should have 
her than I. I don’t wonder since I humiliated him in that 
scrimmage some time ago.” 

“What scrimmage. I never heard of it,” asked Mary 
curiously. 

“O, I forgot that you didn’t know that. It wasn’t 
much, just a little wrestling match and Bill got the worst 
of it.” 

“I am sure you are keeping something back under 
that easy way you speak of it,” she replied smilingly. “I 
don’t care to know if you think it isn’t important enough, 
but do be careful, please, for I feel as if that man had 
planned in his heart to do you great harm.” 

“You don’t know how much good it does me to hear 
you speak that way. One likes to feel that he is thought 
of by some one, especially when the some one is Mary 
Colter.” 

“O hush,” she said, pleased at his compliment, but 
feminine like trying to stop it. “Don’t turn it off in that 
way, but do be careful.” 

“Well, I will,” he said, “but I do not think that there 
is any danger. He is too wrapped up in his liquor ever 
to think of anything else.” 

The day of this conversation they were driving up 
the east side of the lake. This was on the opposite side 
from the place where they had been to have the picnic. 
Burton now stopped and said : “It is now four o’clock. 


THE PA TRIOT 


i35 


We are five miles from Richton and six from your home. 
Now, I would like to visit a Mrs. Hawley, whose hus- 
band died two weeks ago and I preached the funeral ser- 
mon. She lives three miles up the hill. It will take about 
an hour to get up there and at least fifteen minutes for 
a call. Then we will come back to this place and will 
get here about six o’clock. It will take less than half an 
hour to drive home from here. Now the end of this long 
speech is this: Do you girls want to go or shall I come 
some other day ?” 

“I want to go right away, Uncle Rob,” Helen said 
with her merry little laugh. Burton had taught her to 
call him uncle. 

“All right, so do I,” chimed in Mary. “We will, how- 
ever, not get home before seven, for Rob, your horse, 
cannot trot six miles in less than half an hour.” 

“Can’t he?” Burton said eagerly. “Dannie, we will 
show her when we get home, won’t we?” Dannie was 
the name of Burton’s horse. “Why,” continued Burton 
proudly, “Dannie can pass any horse in the county.” 

“O my,” Mary said, with her low musical laugh, “I 
really and truly thought that I had promised to marry a 
minister, and now I find out that it is to a horse jockey 
that I have bound myself.” 

“O pshaw,” said Burton, pleased at her raillery. 
“Show me a preacher that can preach a rattling good ser- 
mon and I’ll show you one that likes a fast horse. It 
doesn’t make any difference whether he has ever driven 
a horse in his life or not, if some one takes him into a 


136 


THE P AT RIOT 


buggy and gives him a good spin behind a fast stepper, 
when the preacher gets out he will say, That was a fine 
drive, I tell you ; that was a fine drive/ ” 

“Well, I like to drive fast, too,” said Mary, “but I 
know some of the old ladies the other day at the sewing 
circle were considerably agitated because you were in 
the habit of driving so fast. They thought that you ought 
not to do it. They were afraid it would lead to wrong.” 

“The old, old story,” groaned Burton, “trying to 
keep people from doing bad things by refusing to let 
them do good things. I heard a man say the other day, 
'Don’t you go to a good play, such as the Old Homestead 
or one of Shakespeare, for if you do young people will 
go to see the bad plays.’ Now, if that is good logic then 
this also is good logic, 'Don’t eat mushrooms, for if you 
do your children may eat toadstools,’ or this, 'Don’t read 
the Bible, for if you do you may lead young people to 
read bad books.’ The bad in the horse race is not the race 
but the betting, but there are some people whose skulls 
are so thick that they will never be able to see the distinc- 
tion. When people teach their boys that horse racing is 
bad, then when a couple of boys get out somewhere and 
race their horses, which is as natural for boys to do as to 
eat, then because of their teaching the boys will feel that 
they have committed the full sin and the next time they 
will bet. Horses like to race and men like to race them, 
so let them do it, but we ought to devote our energy to 
wiping out the gambling that has grown up around it. 
But I am not lecturing you, Mary. This subject always 


THE P AT RIOT 


i37 


starts me going for Dannie and I am such good friends. 
You see Dannie was raised on the old plantation, down 
in the blue grass region, and when any one objects to 
horses going fast, I think it a personal thrust at Dannie, 
for he does like to go. But I see while we have been 
talking that he has brought us up to Mrs. Hawley’s. 
Now, if you will wait a moment, I will go in and have a 
little chat and console her as best I may. I will not be 
long. Now, Dannie, stand still ; no more runaways.” 

After Burton had been in the house about five minutes 
he came out and said: “Mrs. Hawley is quite sick and 
is all alone. She said that she was taken with a dizzy 
spell about an hour ago. She is expecting her son home 
almost any moment now. As she is feeling so miserable, 
I wonder if we had not better stay until he comes. It 
will mean that Dannie must trot all the faster.” 

“Why, certainly I can go in,” answered Mary. “It 
isn’t absolutely necessary that I shall be home at any 
definite time. Mother is very considerate with me now- 
adays. She says that she remembers when father used 
to take her out riding during their engagement as though 
it were only yesterday.” 

When they went indoors Mrs. Hawley was sitting 
up. She seemed to feel much better since she had com- 
pany. She asked as they came in, “Who is the little girl 
you have, Mr. Burton?” 

“She is a little sweetheart of mine that I have taken 
to raise. She was given to me by her mother on her 
deathbed. She was Mrs. Carter’s little girl; you heard 
about her being burned.” 


THE PA TRIOT 


138 


“Yes, indeed. It was very sad. I didn’t know, 
though, that she had a child. But we hear so few things 
up at the head of this wild gull. My nearest neighbor 
is a mile and a half away. If you should go down into 
that gull, you would certainly think that you had gotten 
into the very wildest part of the world. It is very steep 
and rugged. Quite often the wild cats come out and 
take our chickens. I don’t suppose any one goes in there 
once in five years. Some years ago people did go there 
considerable, that was when the cave was first discovered. 
But that seems long since to have been almost forgotten.” 

“It must have been entirely forgotten,” Burton said, 
“for I have never heard a single word about a cave since 
I have been here. Did you know about it?” he asked, 
turning to Mary. 

“I heard something about it years ago,” she answered, 
“but it had entirely slipped out of my mind.” 

“We must organize a party and explore it some day. 
How is the best way to get to it, Mrs. Hawley?” Burton 
asked. 

“I think from the mouth of the gull,” she said. “It is 
practically impossible to get into it from the sides. The 
cliffs are too steep and are two or three hundred feet high 
in places. But I am sure that I know very little about it. 
It will certainly be exploring unknown country 
for you to hunt for it. But there comes my son, he is 
later than usual. You must hurry and go now, for it 
is already getting dusk. Thank you very much, Mr. 
Burton, for thinking of me in my lonely widowhood. I 


THE PATRIOT 


i39 


wish it wasn’t so far, I would so much like to come down 
and hear you preach. Good night. Be careful going 
down that steep road for the track is not very plain and 
your horse may get off to the side. Good night, come 
again when you can.” 

Burton and Mary said “good night” and drove away. 
It was now nearly dark, but he thought that Dannie 
could easily find the way. He had to drive very slowly 
as the road was steep and full of stones. Dannie picked 
his way along nicely, but it was growing darker rapidly. 
The road was a new one and had been used very little. 
After they had gone about a mile Mary said, “I believe 
we are out of the road.” 

“Do you think so?” asked Burton anxiously. “I will 
get out and strike a match and see.” When he had 
looked a moment as best he could with his lighted match, 
he said, “I think we are all right. There seems to be a 
dim track here, although it doesn’t look as though it has 
been used as much as the one we came up. We will drive 
a short distance further and see how things develop.” 

He then drove on some two or three hundred yards, 
then Dannie stopped with a snort. Burton quickly 
jumped out and found that they had indeed gotten off 
the road. That they were upon the very edge of the 
great gull that Mrs. Hawley had spoken of. As he stood 
a moment at Dannie’s head Mary said quietly, “Look 
down there almost directly below us. See those lights 
moving about. It must be a couple of hundred feet down 
to them. Who can they be ?” 


140 


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“I see them,” said Burton. ‘There seem to be four 
men. They are hunting for something along the side 
of the gull. It is no use to call to them for they cannot 
help us. We will have to drive back, until we come to the 
place where we left our road, and then hasten on home, 
for I am sure your mother is worrying.” 

“Let us wait a moment,” Mary said, “and see if we 
can hear anything from the men. It seems so weird to 
me, that we should see men at night where Mrs. Hawley 
said no one ever came.” 

As they listened a moment there came, from a man 
further down on the other side of the gull, a long-drawn- 
out shout that sounded uncanny on the still night air, as 
it came from the depths below. “Ha, here, ho, ho! here 
fellows, I’ve found it, I’ve found it!” 

“O, dear,” quavered Mary, “do turn Dannie around 
and let us get away from here. What can it all mean?” 

“I don’t know,” answered Burton thoughtfully. 
“Probably some new meanness that they are hatching. 
That fellow’s voice sounded to me like our friend Bill’s. 
Something is up I’ll warrant.” 

After driving back a half a mile they came to the 
place where they had missed the road, which Dannie 
now followed safely to the foot of the hill. After show- 
ing Mary his watch Burton gave Dannie a touch with 
the whip. It was a good road and, although dark, in 
just twenty-seven minutes afterward he stopped at Squire 
Colter’s gate. 

Mary said, “It was a good drive. I liked it. Won’t 


THE PA TRIOT 


141 

you come in and have a little lunch before going home? ,, 

“No, thank you,” answered Burton, “it is after nine 
now. I must get Helen home so she can go to bed. She 
is asleep and I will not disturb her twice. I’ll lay her 
here on the seat and take you up to the door. Wait, 
please, until I tie Dannie.” 

As he started for the house, which was about a hun- 
dred feet away, he put his hand up to see if Helen was 
safely on the seat. He gave her a little pat and said, “I’ll 
be back in a moment, sweetheart.” But she heard noth- 
ing, for she was in dream land. 

Then he walked with Mary to the door. He ex- 
plained to Mrs. Colter in a few words what had detained 
them, and laughingly said, “Mrs. Colter, I am afraid 
you will not want to trust Mary with me if I keep her 
out so late.” 

“I didn’t worry a bit,” replied Mrs. Colter. 

“All right, I’m glad. Good night all.” • Then Burton 
turned and went back to the buggy. In a moment those 
in the house heard him shouting. The Squire went to 
the door and heard Burton say, “Bring a lantern quickly. 
Helen is gone.” 

They ran out immediately and found Burton hunting 
around in the dark. His face was white and he groped 
about almost unseeingly. They hunted, too, in the buggy, 
under the seat, and in the grass. They called, but it 
was no use. Helen had disappeared as if by magic. Bur- 
ton had not gone into the house. He had not been a hun- 
dred feet away at any time, yet they had heard no sound. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE CAVE. 


Burton was distracted with grief and anxiety. After 
they had hunted around until they saw there was no 
hope of finding Helen there, he jumped into his buggy 
and drove rapidly to Richton. When he reached there 
he spread the news that Helen had been stolen, for he 
had no doubt but that she had been kidnaped. A search 
party was soon formed, but they were unable to find out 
much. They discovered two bicycle tracks that began 
near where Burton’s buggy had stood and went towards 
Richton. Some one in Richton said he heard a child 
crying as it was carried rapidly through the main street. 
This was about ten minutes before Burton came to the 
village from Squire Colter’s. 

Burton did not get to bed until nearly three o’clock 
in the morning, but he was up and hunting again by 
seven. It was a fruitless search ; the kidnapers had cov- 
ered up their tracks well. Bill Carter could be found 
nowhere; and every one believed that he had something 
to do with the abduction. No one felt like justifying 
him in this, even though he was Helen’s father. They 
knew that, if he was the abductor, his chief motive was 
one of revenge. Some even feared, because Bill had 
grown so morose and was drinking so much more, that 
he would do Helen harm. 


142 


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M3 


Burton drove to three neighboring towns and tele- 
graphed to the city, but he received no tidings from any 
source. The earth seemed to have opened and swallowed 
captive and captors. Burton did not return to Richton 
until six o’clock in the evening. He was completely tired 
out. He made a few inquiries of other searchers, to see 
if they had been able to discover anything about Helen, 
but soon found that no one knew anything about her. 
He then went dejectedly homeward and ate a little of the 
bountiful supper that Mrs. Menson had prepared, and 
then immediately went to bed. 

It seemed to him that he had been sleeping only a 
few minutes when he was awakened by some one throw- 
ing gravel against his window. He jumped up and 
quietly raised the sash and said, “Hello, who is there, 
what’s wanted?” 

“I’m Fred Seton,” said some one huskily, “I believe 
if you will come that we can get Helen. I saw Bill Car- 
ter go into his house about ten minutes ago, and I think 
he had a little girl with him. He is probably packing 
some things preparing to skip out.” 

“What is the matter with your voice, Fred?” asked 
Burton. 

“I caught a fearful cold last night when I was out 
hunting Helen,” answered the husky voice. “I’ll run 
over to the house and keep an eye on it so if Bill leaves 
we can trace him. You come over as soon as you are 
dressed and we will make things warm for him.” 

“All right,” replied Burton, as he withdrew and 
began to dress. When he was ready he looked at his 


144 


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watch and exclaimed, “Why, it is nearly midnight. I 
thought I had been in bed only about half an hour. I 
wonder if everything is all straight. That fellow didn’t 
talk much like Fred, but pshaw, he had a cold. Helen’s 
abduction and my losing so much sleep is making me 
nervous. I guess I can take care of myself. I’ll go out 
quietly so I will not disturb Mrs. Menson and the Duke.” 

Burton slipped downstairs in his stocking feet. When 
he was outside the gate he stopped and put on his shoes, 
then he walked quickly and quietly down the street to- 
wards the old shack that Bill called home. A faint light 
was flickering inside and some one’s shadow went back 
and forth and he heard a child’s voice. As Burton came 
up he muttered to himself, “I guess everything is all 
right, some one is in there. I’ll go up slowly and see if 
I can see Fred anywhere.” Just then he spied a man 
lying in the tall grass, near the corner of the house. He 
went toward the prostrate form and stooping over said in 
a low voice, “Is this you, Fred?” 

At that instant Burton was struck a stunning blow 
on the back of his head with some kind of a club. He 
fell over senseless. When he regained consciousness he 
found that he was bound, gagged, and lying on his back 
in the botton of a spring wagon. The wagon was being 
driven quite rapidly. He could see the stars and the 
overhanging trees. After a few moments he figured out 
that he was being driven up the lake. Two men were 
sitting on the seat in front of him and were conversing in 
low tones. 


THE PATRIOT 


i4S 


A little while after Burton opened his eyes the driver 
turned off the road. It was now necessary to drive much 
slower, for there were a great many large stones and no 
beaten path. Burton wondered where they could be tak- 
ing him. On both sides were high cliffs. They were 
driving up a deep gull. Suddenly Burton thought of 
the cave that he had learned of at Mrs. Hawley’s the day 
before. 

After the men had driven about a mile up the gull 
Burton heard one of them say, “This is as far as we can 
go with the horse. We will have to get out and carry 
him the rest of the way.” 

The horse was now stopped and tied, then the two 
men came and took hold of Burton to lift him out. When 
they found that he was helping himself some, they real- 
ized that he was conscious. They lifted him out in 
silence, then one of the fellows cut the cords that bound 
■his ankles together, and, giving him a shove, whispered 
in his ear, “Walk!” 

They walked on slowly, stumbling over a good many 
stones, and going around fallen trees. Burton estimated 
that they had gone about a mile when they stopped. One 
of the men whistled, immediately some one answered 
from above and said, “Hello, where are you?” 

“Right here by the big boulder,” one of Burton’s 
captors answered. 

“Have you got him?” asked the one above. 

“You bet,” they replied. “Throw down the rope.” 

Then Burton heard a rope fall near him. His two 


146 


THE PATRIOT 


captors now placed the loop over his head and shoulders 
until it came under his arms. Then some one or several 
began to pull from above, and he was lifted- up about 
fifty feet before he could gain a foothold. He was now 
grasped by the arm and led along a narrow shelf of rock 
until they came to an opening in the cliff, then he was 
thrust into this opening. He found himself in a large 
subterranean room. He could see a little, for there had 
been a fire, but nothing was left now save a few dying 
embers. These threw a faint flickering light that filled 
the cavern with shadows and gloom. Burton’s feet were 
again bound, but the gag was removed from his mouth. 

Every one now went out of the cave. Burton was 
alone. He watched the embers of the dying fire go out, 
one by one. No one came back as far as he could see, 
and the very silence grew oppressive. 

After a long time there suddenly began a low whis- 
pering, that sounded something like the hiss of a snake. 
The whispering grew louder and louder, and at last he 
was able to distinguish words, and then he realized that 
some one was cursing him, in the darkness. The low 
whispered hideous cursings filled the cave. These con- 
tinued a few moments and then ceased as suddenly as 
they began. Then again the hissing and the unmistak- 
able sound that a rattlesnake makes began. Burton 
knew that these cliffs were the home of many rattle 
snakes, and he could not help but shudder. Again came 
the horrible silence, and Burton thought he could see a 

serpent crawling slowly toward him; he closed his eyes. 

1 


THE PA TRIOT 


i47 


Suddenly, as before, the cavern was filled with the 
whispered cursings, that gradually and almost imper- 
ceptibly changed into low guttural words. 

“Preacher, politician, knave ! You must promise cer- 
tain things or else this cave will be your tomb.” 

Burton now spoke and said ironically: “Do you fel- 
lows, especially you, Bill Carter, imagine that all this 
nonsense is affecting me? If you have any such idea I 
will save you any further horse play by telling you that 
my nerves are not easily unstrung by such things. You 
can do no worse than kill me, and I am convinced that I 
am ready to die, if it is necessary. Now if you fellows 
want anything, come out in the open, light a lamp or a 
fire, and then make your demands. I will tell you whether 
I will accept them or not. I shall probably not.” 

The guttural voice began again: “Preacher, shut 
your mouth! We are engineering this little affair. When 
we want to hear any advice from you we will attend 
your church, that is, if you are ever so fortunate as to 
fill any pulpit again. We have writing material here 
and you are to write a letter purporting to come from 
some town in Ohio. In this letter you are to say you 
have left Richton for good, that you will never return. 
We are desperate men, Mr. Preacher. A failure to 
comply with any of these conditions means death to you. 
You may think that you know who we are, but do not 
flatter yourself along that line. More people than Bill 
Carter are dissatisfied with your foolish way of trying 
to enforce law. This cave is isolated; it has not been 


148 


THE PA TRIOT 


visited for years ; it will not be visited for many years to 
come, maybe never. If you do not make Jthese promises 
at once, and signify your willingness to write this letter, 
you will be left tied and will die of thirst and hunger. If 
you decide to die your consolation can be this : You will 
be like one of the great Bible heroes, Moses, for no one 
will know the place of your burial. No one will even 
hunt for your carcass. We have planned too well, for 
the anonymous letter said that when you were told the 
things that had been found out about you in Kentucky 
that you would leave Richton. We will see to it that the 
people believe that is the reason of your absence. Now, 
d© you promise to do as we have suggested?” 

Burton realized that the way the man talked that he 
was dealing with desperate men. He groaned as he 
thought of the anonymous letter, for he realized that they 
had planned well. He believed that they would carry out 
their threat. They had gone too far. They would be 
safer if he were dead. But without a moment’s hesita- 
tion he answered firmly: “Gentlemen, please excuse the 
misnomer. I must decline to accept any of the conditions 
you have named. You can do as you threaten.” 

Burton was alone. All about was the awful silence, 
the appalling darkness and the angel Death hovered near. 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE SEARCH. 

When Mrs. Menson called Burton to come to break- 
fast the next morning she received no answer. She con- 
cluded that he had gotten up early to care for Dannie. 
She went toward the stable but soon saw that the barn 
was not open, and apparently had not been, for Dannie 
was neighing loudly for his oats. Mrs. Menson thinking 
something was wrong hurried back to the house ; I had 
just come down and was waiting for Burton to come in 
that we might eat. As Mrs. Menson came in she said: 
“Where is Mr. Burton ?” 

“Why, he is out at the stable, isn’t he?” I asked. 

“No, he isn’t, nor is he in his room. Do you suppose 
he has gone to hunt for little Helen?” 

“Probably,” I replied. “Let us eat. I think there is 
no doubt that he is around somewhere and will soon be 
in. He is all wrapped up in that child and will not rest 
until he gets some trace of her.” 

About the time that Mrs. Menson and I were discuss- 
ing Burton’s absence down near the Post Office quite a 
crowd had gathered for so early in the morning. They 
were reading and discussing with considerable excite- 
149 


THE PA TRIOT 


150 

ment a dodger that had been scattered in front of the 
stores, which read as follows: 

“A PROPHECY COMES TRUE.” 

“Some weeks ago it was prophesied in letters sent to 
a few individuals that a certain gentleman in this village 
would leave town. This prophecy was based on the fact 
that certain things of his life prior to his leaving his 
native state, Kentucky, had been found out, and that 
when he would be communicated with, that he would 
get out. The persons who wrote the letter have spoken 
to this reverend gentleman, telling him what they knew. 
He begged us to keep our information to ourselves. 
Upon our promising to do so, if he would leave the state 
and trouble its communities no more with his foolish 
ideas about law, he quietly withdrew. Richton people 
will find this morning that the Reverend Robert Burton 
has gone. For this great deliverance from a wolf that 
has been masquerading in sheep’s clothing the people 
should rejoice even as does your humble servants of 
The Vigilance Committee.” 

The information given in the dodgers was not under- 
stood by those that first picked them up, and no one there 
had received any of the anonymous letters and knew 
nothing about them. 

Soon after they were found, though, Deacon Hawkins 
came down to his store and was shown one. He read it 
and then became greatly excited and sent a boy off to 
Mrs. Menson’s to see if Burton was there. The boy 
came tearing back in about five minutes. As best he 


THE PA TRIOT 


151 

could, for he was nearly breathless with his rapid run, 
he told them that Burton was not at home, and that 
neither I nor Mrs. Menson knew where he had gone. 

‘‘What can it mean?” someone asked. 

No one was ready to give an answer to this question. 
Deacon Hawkins sent word to Squire Colter and to the 
other trustees telling them that Burton had disappeared. 
They all drove in as soon as they received the message, 
for all of them had received the anonymous letter and at 
once connected the disappearance with that. 

Deacon Hawkins, as chairman of the trustees, called 
them to order, stating the situation. He wanted to know 
what they should do about the matter. “As far as I am 
concerned,” he said, “I am in favor of letting things 
take their course. It seems to me a little queer that Mr. 
Burton should be gone, just as this dodger says. Maybe 
there is more in that anonymous letter we received a 
while ago, than we at first believed.” 

“It does seem a little queer,” said Squire Colter, “that 
Helen should disappear one night and Mr. Burton the 
next. There is evidently no foul play in the matter. If 
there had been Mrs. Menson and the professor would 
have been awakened by any struggle. Mr. Burton evi- 
dently got up and went outside of his own free will. Like 
Deacon Hawkins, it seems to me not to call for any hasty 
action on our part. We will let the matter drag along 
for a few days, then, if Mr. Burton does not turn up, we 
can communicate with the proper officers and the matter 
can be looked into.” 


J 5 2 


THE PA TRIOT 


Deacon Reid, a frail old man, now arose and in indig- 
nant tones said: “I can’t understand the position that 
you gentlemen take. Our pastor has gone under very 
suspicious circumstances, it is true, but the suspicion does 
not rest upon him. For myself, I believe that he has 
been foully dealt with. We all know the active part 
that he has taken in the last few months in trying to get 
evil out of our community. I have been with him, heart 
and hand, in it all. I know that some of you gentlemen 
feel a little cool toward him, because he has differed with 
you about the feasibility of enforcing the laws, but he 
has been a gentleman all the time; he has been a fair, 
square fighter. He has made enemies, as any man will, 
unless he is a nonentity. I honor him for his enemies. 
They have tried to undermine his character in many 
ways. I cannot understand your attitude, gentlemen, 
especially you, Squire Colter, when you know what a 
precious relation he holds to your daughter. Let us get 
over our indifference, get out and hunt for him or do 
something for God’s sake, find out what has became of 
him. At least I am going to do something. I’ll not be a 
party to this meeting, that is not only indifferent but even 
has a tinge of suspicion cast upon one whom we have 
always found honorable.” 

With these words Deacon Reid left the meeting, while 
his colleagues started after him in open-mouthed wonder, 
for Deacon Reid was quiet and not inclined to assert his 
views so bluntly and so clearly. 

The interest in the meeting seemed to go with him, 


THE PA TRIOT 


i53 


for those that remained said nothing for awhile, and were 
considerably embarrassed. At last Squire Colter said: 
“I move that we adjourn.” The motion was carried with- 
out any remarks. 

After Deacon Reid left the meeting he went and 
telephoned for the sheriff. Then he sent a telegram to 
the city for a detective. The old deacon had always been 
a great admirer of Burton and now he was greatly agi- 
tated. He was ready to spend a large sum of money 
to find out whether Burton had gone of his own free will 
or whether he had been foully dealt with. His interest 
in the matter had much to do with stirring up others. 

When the message came to Squire Colter that morn- 
ing that Burton had disappeared he told Mrs. Colter be- 
fore he started for Richton. The hard task fell upon her 
of informing Mary of the strange disappearance of the 
one so dear to her. 

After many plans had flitted through Mrs. Colter’s 
mind she called Mary down stairs, from where she had 
gone to attend to some household duties. When she 
came in Mrs. Colter went on with her work as she asked : 
“Mary, did Rob — ” when Mary and her mother were 
talking alone they always used Burton’s Christian name 
— “did Rob tell you that he was going away for awhile ?” 

“No, mother, he said nothing about it. Has he gone 
and sent me some message?” 

“Didn’t he say that he might go away to seek for little 
Helen?” queried Mrs. Colter. 

“No, mother. What is the matter? Please tell me 


THE PA TRIOT 


154 

all. Has Rob been hurt ? He isn’t dead, is he ? He isn’t 
dead, is he ?” she said wildly, for as she caught the drift 
of her mother’s question she became more and more ex- 
cited. 

“No, no, daughter,” Mrs. Colter said soothingly, “but 
he strangely disappeared last night and no one has the 
faintest idea what has become of him. Then there is a 
strange hand bill that has been scattered in the street. 
Here is one that you can read. See what it says?” She 
then handed Mary a dodger that had been brought to the 
Squire. 

Mary read it and then burst into tears, and ran up- 
stairs. She flung herself upon her bed and lay there sob- 
bing convulsively for a time. Suddenly she sat up and 
wiped the tears out of her eyes. “Bill Carter is back of 
this, I know,” she said almost fiercely. “If Rob hasn’t 
been killed outright, I know he has been bound and 
secreted somewhere. I wonder what they would do. 
Oh !” she said, as she jumped up hastily and began to put 
on her wraps hurriedly. “I remember the men we saw 
in the deep gull the night Helen was taken. That’s where 
he is. We will hunt for the cave. The horrible words 
of that man still ring in my ears, T have found it. Won’t 
we make him suffer.’ I believe I am on the right track. 
I must hurry.” 

Mrs. Colter was amazed to see Mary come down- 
stairs about ten minutes after she had gone up. Mary’s 
face was flushed, her eyes sparkled and she was ready 
for driving. 


THE PATRIOT 


i55 


“Why, what is the matter, Mary? Are you well?” 
asked her mother anxiously, for she feared that Mary 
had taken a sudden fever because of her great grief. 

“Yes, mother,” answered Mary, “I am well. I am 
going to drive over to Seton’s. I want to get Fred and 
some other of the boys to go on a search with me.” 

“O, Mary, don’t you go. There are plenty of men to 
go without you running about over the country,” chided 
her mother. 

“Mother, I will die unless I am doing something, be- 
sides it is my business to go. Rob will be looking for 
me.” 

“But, child, where are you going to hunt. You speak 
as if it were only a matter of going to a certain place 
and there finding him.” 

“Yes, mother, it is. I feel sure that if Rob is still 
alive, we will find him in a cave in that great wild gull 
seven miles up the lake.” 

“I had forgotten all about that cave. I didn’t know 
that you had ever heard about it. Why do you think 
that he will be found there ?” 

“Because Rob and I saw some men there the other 
night when we got off the road, and in the excitement 
over Helen I had forgotten to mention it. I am going 
now, mother.” 

Mary went out and hitched up the horse. As she 
was driving away her mother came to the door and 
called, “I saw Fred Seton drive past toward Richton 
about half an hour ago.” 


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156 


“All right, mother. I’ll drive directly into Richton 
then. I will probably find a number of young men about 
Fred’s age gathered there, drawn by the excitement.” 

When Mary reached Richton, about the first person 
she saw was Fred. She told him part of her plans. 

“Where are you going to hunt, Mary?” asked Fred. 

“Wait until we get started and then I will tell you,” 
she answered. “Meet me here in half an hour or less 
with six or seven comrades and good teams.” 

Fred hastened away to do Mary’s bidding. At the 
end of the half-hour they were at the appointed place. 
Fred had his single buggy and the others had secured a 
double carriage. 

Mary had waited in Deacon Hawkins’ store, where 
she heard so many different theories of Burton’s disap- 
pearance that she could not help smiling, although she 
was so anxious. She saw two or three men in the crowd, 
in front of the store, who seemed to keep tab on the way 
people talked. She knew them as tough characters, and 
as enemies of Burton. She felt sure that they knew 
considerable about his disappearance. 

When Fred and his companions came driving up in 
front of the store some began to question them as to 
where they were going to search, for it was evident that 
they were going for that purpose. Mary noticed that 
the fellows she had watched crowded around the carriage 
to listen. She hurried out, quietly nodded to Fred to 
follow her, then she stepped into her buggy and drove 
away. 


THE PA TRIOT 


i57 


They had to go around the foot of the lake about a 
mile before they started up. When Mary was ready to 
turn into the road that led up the lake she stopped to let 
the others come nearer, then she said, “Boys, I believe 
Mr. Burton is held captive in the cave in the wild gull 
seven miles up this side of the lake. I will not stop to 
tell you why I think so just now. Follow me as fast 
as you can, for we cannot tell what may happen. ,, 

Then she turned and they sped on as fast as the horses 
could travel. Farmers looked in wonder as the three 
teams went by. A mile before coming to the gull, the 
cliffs came down so near to the lake that there was only 
room for a narrow roadway to be dug out. This made a 
very picturesque scene, but no one lived near. 

In a very short time they came to the gull they were 
seeking. Here they stopped and the young men jumped 
out and examined the opening. It was very narrow at 
its mouth, scarcely room for a buggy to go through, but 
in further it broadened out some. In no place, however, 
was it more than a hundred feet wide. 

They drove in about a mile when the way became so 
rough that they were compelled to leave their rigs and 
proceed on foot. After walking or scrambling along for 
nearly a mile they stopped. “Shout, boys, and see if 
some one will answer,” Mary said. 

They shouted with a will, then listened. Mary ex- 
claimed in great excitement, “Boys, I heard an answering 
shout. Hurry on !” 

After going about ten rods they came to a rope 


THE PA TRIOT 


158 

dangling from a tree above. All were now greatly ex- 
cited. They shouted again. This time there was an un- 
mistakable response. Then Fred began to climb the 
rope, hand over hand. He was soon at the top. They 
saw him carefully work himself along a narrow ledge, 
then disappear for a moment, but he returned, almost 
immediately, shouting wildly, “He’s here, he’s here !” 

Fred then hastily cut the cords that bound Burton, 
who was nearly helpless from the cramped position he 
was compelled to lie in, and weak from joy. 

Frank Camp now climbed the rope and helped Fred 
let Burton down. When Mary saw him safely at her feet 
she could bear up no longer, but sank down on the 
ground sobbing for joy. 

Helen was found in Bill’s old house. 

A search, however, failed to reveal Bill. He had 
probably had warning that Burton had been found and 
made a hasty retreat. It was many days before he again 
appeared in Richton. 

Some said that he was lurking in the deep wild gulls 
at the head of the lake and that Burton’s escape from 
these villains would be but temporary, unless he was very 
careful. Many believed that Bill would seek to soothe 
his wounded feelings by even darker deeds of villainy. 
But the idea was laughed at by others, and soon Bill was 
almost forgotten. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


OVER INTO “EGYPT.” 

It was the middle of June when Burton had his ter- 
rible experience with the brutes who left him to die in 
the cave. After his rescue he learned from Deacon Reid 
of the indifference to his disappearance of such promi- 
nent members as Deacon Hawkins and Squire Colter. 
Because of this Burton realized that his firm stand for 
civil as well as moral righteousness was creating opposi- 
tion, some open, some concealed. He knew that many 
were greatly opposed to a preacher in politics, as they 
were pleased to call the stand he had taken for the en- 
forcement of law. 

When people begin to criticize they are unable to stop. 
They now began to find fault with Mary. Because she 
led the rescue party some unfavorable remarks were 
started by a few. They said her conduct was unmaidenly 
and uncalled for. When she heard of these criticisms 
she thought them so palpably unjust and malignant that 
it disgusted her with some of the church people and she 
stayed at home more than usual. Her heart compelled 
her to be true to Burton, although she knew he had the 
ill-will of many. She also realized now that not only was 
Charlie opposed to her engagement to Burton but that 
her father would gladly see it broken. 

*59 


i6o 


THE PA TRIOT 


But this opposition instead of estranging her and Bur- 
ton cemented their affections with a firmer band. They 
were together much oftener. Two or three afternoons 
every week they took long drives and had planned to be 
married at Christmas. 

Burton did not falter in his campaign for civic right- 
eousness. He had taken his stand to do what he could to 
enforce the law, wherever he knew it to be disobeyed, and 
he kept up the fight. He knew, and nearly every one else 
knew, that the liquor prohibitory law was being violated. 
A great many drunken men were seen on the streets, 
especially on Saturday evenings. It was almost certain 
that the carousals with the cock fights were being car- 
ried on somewhere, but it was not possible for Burton, 
without the co-operation of the officerSj to do anything. 
If he had had the co-operation of the men and officers of 
the community, who held the power, it would have been 
comparatively easy to have cleaned out the gang, but 
they were utterly indifferent. They said that things were 
not very bad, that the law was not made to be enforced 
to the full letter. 

It was one of the finest adherences to a principle that 
I have ever seen, this action of Burton’s. He did not 
believe in the law (I never knew just what form he did 
favor), but not believing, yet he pressed for its enforce- 
ment because he believed in the sacredness of the state’s 
mandates. This desire and his working for enforcement 
brought him enemies. And because of its attitude Rich- 
ton soon paid well for its acquiescence in the lawlessness. 


THE PA TRIOT 


161 

As the weeks slipped by it was evident to many that 
Charlie had taken a downward path. He was often under 
the influence of liquor, but as yet had not been openly 
boisterous. The Squire and Mrs. Colter were strangely 
blind to any defect in his way, and he was able to explain 
his late nights and nervous manner in such a way that he 
satisfied their fond hearts. They thought that he was 
not feeling well. Mary, however, had begun to suspect 
that he was doing things he should not, and one day she 
remonstrated with him, but he shut her up in such a 
cruel, unbrotherly manner that she never referred to it 
again. She tried to comfort herself by thinking that she 
was restless, because everything had been so tragic of 
late and she told herself that she was unduly apprehen- 
sive ; nevertheless, she could not help feeling as if she 
were living over a sleeping volcano. 

June and July drifted by, hot, dusty and disagreeable. 
Nothing new or sensational developed and Mary had 
begun to feel less nervous. August came in with showers. 
The fields drank eagerly of the welcome rain and changed 
their brown to green. The trees shook the dust from 
their leaves and looked beautiful once more. The birds 
chattered as if spring had just come. The warm summer 
breezes played over the placid waters of the lake and then 
hastened on, eager to continue their journey. This re- 
newing time helped Mary. She became calmer, and more 
hopeful for the best. But she was always happiest when 
with Burton, for when at home she could not help but 
notice a serious change in Charlie. 


i 62 


THE PATRIOT 


August continued cool and delightful. One day in the 
latter part of the month Mary expressed some of her ap- 
prehensions to Burton, as they were driving over into 
'‘Egypt/’ “Egypt” was the local designation of a shut- 
in valley that one came into by going over the eastern 
range of hills. The only crop the people were able to 
raise there was hops. The liop-yards, large and small, 
grew at all angles. This crop gave the people a bare 
living, that was all. The inhabitants were densely ignor- 
ant and many of the children ten or twelve years old had 
never been out of the valley. Some of the grown people 
had never seen a railroad. About the only village they 
ever visited was Richton, and Richton was five miles 
from the railroad and “Egypt” was six miles further back 
in the hills. The people had little schooling, and had 
been without much religion, except that which they re- 
ceived at funeral services, until there came into their 
midst some workers who said they belonged to “the Holy 
Sanctified Church of Jesus Christ.” 

These workers created considerable excitement. 
People from Richton often went over to their camp meet- 
ings. They had been holding them every summer for the 
last two or three years. Because of the peculiar way these 
workers had of expressing their faith, a Richton wag 
had dubbed them “The Holy Rollers.” They accepted the 
name and said it was true, that they rolled and jumped, 
but they said they jumped to beat the devil. 

It was to one of these camp meetings that Burton 
and Mary were driving that August day that will be long 


THE PA TRIOT 


163 


remembered in Richton. When they were well started up 
the long slope to the brow of the hill to go over into 
Egypt Valley, Burton looked at Mary and said: “Why 
this sad countenance, Mary, on such a bright day ?” 

“O Rob ,” she answered, “I am feeling dreadful blue 
today. Something is going to happen I am sure. Ever 
since you preached that sermon last April about lawless- 
ness, things perfectly awful have been occurring. Many 
of the church people are becoming estranged. We saw 
those men in the gull; Helen was taken; then you were 
captured and put into that horrible cave. Bill Carter is 
away, but I feel sure that he is lurking in some out-of- 
the-way place, and I fear that he will do you or Helen 
some harm. Charlie, I am afraid, is going to the bad. 
I found some whiskey in his room yesterday, but I dare 
not say anything to father or mother, for it would break 
their hearts. O, I wish you would comfort me in some 
way.” 

“You believe that I did right in trying to enforce the 
law. You feel that I am doing right now, do you not?” 
asked Burton anxiously. 

“Yes, I do. I wouldn’t have you do anything else,” 
she answered with spirit. 

“Well, then, you have given your own comfort. If we 
do right, as God gives us to see the right, it is not the 
time for tears but for smiles. So let us be gay forever, 
especially for today, for we are going to see The Holy 
Rollers.’ ” 

Mary could not help smiling at this and asked : “Do 


164 


THE PA T RIOT 


you think we are doing right to go over to see these ‘Holy 
Rollers’ from mere curiosity?” 

“Yes, I feel so. I will get some good if I can. A 
preacher ought to study all phases of the working of the 
Spirit. We cannot shut him up in one church nor to one 
manner of manifestation. I will get good if I can, but 
probably the best will be a good hearty laugh, when 
we are coming back, for I suppose that we will not dare 
to show any amusement while there.” 

“Do you think they get any good out of their reli- 
gion ?” asked Mary. 

“Yes, I suppose so. They forget their troubles for a 
time at least, and that does them some good. They are 
experiencing as high a form of religion as they are 
capable of, until they are better educated or developed in 
some way.” 

When they reached the bottom of Egypt Valley they 
learned that the camp was some distance further up the 
little creek that flowed down through many tortuous 
windings until it emptied into Richton lake. They drove 
slowly up the road, for they thought they were early. 
When within half a mile of the camp they saw teams tied 
in the brush and to trees. They realized, from the great 
number, that they had been fortunate in coming on a big 
day. 

When considerable distance away a song came clearly 
to their ears. It was mostly a repetition of words : 

“This is the way I long have sought, 
Halle-Halle-Halle, Halleluyar! 


THE PATRIOT 


i 6 5 


And mourned because I found it not, 

Halle, Halle, Halle, Halleluyar! 

"It makes no difference what you got, 

Halle, Halle, Halle, Halleluyar! 

Jesus the way for you hath bought, 

Halle, Halle, Halle, Halleluyar! 

"Come now, we will jump and trot, 

Halle, Halle, Halle, Halleluyar! 

And share with us our happy lot, 

Halle, Halle, Halle, Halleluyar !” 

This song was set to some old negro melody and had 
about twenty-five verses. As the melody came through 
the trees it was weirdly beautiful. A minor plaintive 
strain ran through it that made one unconsciously forget 
the world, and live for a moment in a sort of dreamy 
haze. All their songs had this soothing hypnotic effect 
on one who gave himself to its influence. 

Mary said, "That song gives me a pleasant sleeply 
feeling, and yet it makes me feel creepy, too.” 

"Yes,” Burton answered, "there is something attrac- 
tive about it, that is the tune, but I feel as if I would be- 
come hypnotized if I listened to it much and let myself 
go. That is just what these people do, I think ; they are 
hypnotized by the songs. That is the reason they act as 
they do.” 

They now stopped near the camp, tied Dannie, then 
went and sat down on one of the board seats. A great 
many people were there. They were making the woods 


i66 


THE PATRIOT 


ring with their song, which, while not classic, yet because 
of the plaintive strain, was not unpleasant to listen to. 

The gospel leader, or preacher, sat on a little raised 
platform. He directed the meeting while sitting down. 
He arose after they had sung for half an hour and began 
speaking. It was evident to Burton that the man had 
not prepared anything to say but was wandering at ran- 
dom. He was a man of thin physique, very pale, his eyes 
deeply sunken glowed with unnatural lustre. His ears, 
with ragged thin tops, stuck out prominently and gave 
him a grotesque appearance. After a few moments’ talk 
he sat down with a sickly smile upon his face and ac- 
counted for his failure to speak by saying: “I cannot 
speak to day; my utterance is closed by the fullness of 
the Spirit that is upon me.” Burton took note how to 
account for any lack of fluency on his part in the future. 

The leader kept wiping his hands over his face as if 
he were wiping off the perspiration, and saying: “We 
are greatly blessed, the Spirit is upon me. I feel Him, 
I feel Him. O he is upon me, He is here. The Spirit 
is here.” During these remarks he kept looking around 
all the time with almost an idiotic smile. Suddenly he 
jumped up and ran down into the audience. He grasped 
a woman by the hand and shouted, “Sister Hiller, you are 
here! You look so happy! Glory! you are here and 
happy, Halleluyar!” Then he ran back to his seat and 
rubbed his hands over his face as before, talking all the 
time. Four or five times he ran down into the audience, 
mostly to Mrs. Hiller, and clasping hands shouted, 
“Glory, Glory!” 


THE PA TRIOT 


167 


During this time various people were praying and 
shouting. At intervals some one would start a song, a 
few would join in for a while, and then something would 
attract their attention and they would stop. There 
was no order, no plan. This was the way they were led 
by the Spirit. 

After the meeting had been in progress for some time 
some one on the east side shouted, “Henry is going to 
try it.” 

“Try what?” Mary asked of Burton. 

“To try and get an increased blessing,” answered 
Burton. “Now, watch them.” 

The crowd gathered around Henry. Some one began 
to pray. Some were kneeling, some standing, some al- 
most lying down. Henry, who was kneeling, stuck one 
arm up in the air and, waving it about, said, “O Lord, O 
Lord, O Lord!” then he groaned and writhed as if in 
agony. Another one would begin to pray. Henry 
acknowledged the effort in his behalf by louder groans, 
a greater waving of his arms, and more agonized writh- 
ings. 

After about ten minutes of this Henry jumped to his 
feet, shouting at the top of his voice, “I am through. 
Glory! Glory! Halleluyar! Halleluyar! Glory! I am 
through. Praise His name!” 

Then he grabbed Mrs. Hiller, who was standing near, 
by her hand and, jumping up into the air, shouted, 
“Glory!” When Henry struck the ground she jumped 
up and yelled “Glory !” 


Then they jumped faster and faster. When Henry 
was in the air shouting “Glory !” Mrs. Hiller was get- 
ting ready for a spring. When he came down she went 
up yelling “Glory !” Her hair came down and hung 
wildly about her shoulders. Still they jumped and yelled 
faster and faster. Finally in jumping about they fell over 
a seat. Then they went crawling about on their hands 
and knees yelling “Glory ! Glory !”” After about five min- 
utes of this they fell over exhausted. 

“This is awful,” whispered Mary, “let us go home.” 

“Wait till Archie gets the power,” said Burton. “We 
don’t want to miss that ; he will surely get it today, for 
everything is working in the right way.” 

Archie Houck was a great overgrown lumberman, 
about six feet tall. He was loose- jointed, very homely, 
and religious two or three times a year. He was often 
seen in Richton driving his team, which consisted of a 
great large gray mule and a little bay pony hitched to an 
old lumber wagon. Archie always sat on a board, a 
spring seat was a weakness of the flesh, and jogged along 
with the lines hanging loosely. He kept his poor bony 
team going by prodding them with a sharp-pointed stick. 

Archie, as Burton indicated, was present. He sat 
lopped over on a front seat, his elbows on his knees, his 
face in his hands. The beauty of Archie’s performances, 
when he had the “power,” was that he was always orig- 
inal. He never did the same thing twice. In this way 
the curiosity seekers always had a new entertainment 
whenever Archie became blest. People who had come 


THE PA TRIOT 


169 


with entertainment in view were hoping for something 
extra good, for Mrs. Hiller and Henry had, no doubt, 
enthused Archie. 

But Archie gave no sign. He sat on through it all 
and never made a move. After Henry and Mrs. Hiller 
became quiet the singing and amens began again. After 
they had almost given up hope of any further demonstra- 
tion Burton whispered to Mary, “His ears are twitching. 
I believe he is going to perform.” 

Hardly had he spoken when Archie sprang up with a 
loud yell of “Glory ! Glory ! Glory !” Then he dashed out 
of the enclosure and began to run around the camp. 
Again and again he went around, with his coat tails 
streaming out behind and waving his arms wildly in the 
air. His hair was long and blew about his face. His 
eyes had a far-away look like a sleep walker. On about 
the fourth round he came in nearer to the camp. A seat 
was in his way, but he cleared it with a wild jump. While 
he was in mid-air he shouted joyously, “Halleluyar !” but 
as he came to earth again he was unfortunate, for he 
landed on a dog’s tail. The dog howled, and in trying to 
get out of the way he ran directly in front of Archie, 
who fell over him and plowed full lenth in the dust. 
Archie was nothing daunted by his mishap, although 
somewhat bewildered and blinded by the dust, but he 
arose and heroically continued his mad journey with the 
“Glorys” and “Halleluyars” coming thick and fast. 

Some young fellow cried above the din, “He is prov- 
ing the text, 'Ye shall run and not be weary.’ ” Still 


170 


THE PA TRIOT 


Archie kept going until he had encircled the camp at least 
ten times when he dashed down the center aisle toward 
the platform, but unfortunately, or fortunately, perhaps, 
caught his foot and fell. He rolled under the platform of 
raised boards, and there he was heard kicking, striking 
and shouting “Glory!” “Halleluyar !” “Precious is His 
name!” “Glory!” and “Amen!” 

The preacher at this point started a hymn. Finally 
Archie quieted down, and then some one pulled him out 
and persuaded him to take a seat. 

Mary now insisted on going. She felt that the whole 
thing was a sacrilege, and that more harm than good was 
being done. However, when they were safely in the 
buggy she could not help but laugh at the sights they 
had seen. Burton looked at her and said, “Well, we for- 
got our troubles, if we ever had any, while we were with 
the ‘Holy Rollers/ ” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

A TRAGEDY. 


It was near four o’clock in the afternoon when Burton 
and Mary drove away from the camp of the “Holy Roll- 
ers.” Mary had taken along a lunch and they decided 
that they were not quite ready to go home. They drove 
down Egypt Valley a couple of miles to gather ferns, 
eat lunch and then go home. They reached the place of 
the ferns only after considerable difficulty. They had to 
tie Dannie and go the last quarter of a mile on foot. The 
spot was romantic; they found so many beautiful ferns 
and flowers that they tarried much longer than they had 
intended. 

It was nearly seven o’clock when they started back 
up the creek. By the time they reached the road which 
led out of Egypt it was dusk. But they were in no hurry, 
for they knew no one was worrying, as no definite time 
had been set for their return. 

Burton remarked as Dannie turned into the road to- 
ward home, “We are a little late, but it is going to be a 
beautiful evening. It is as clear as a bell. See the moon 
is full. We will have plenty of light soon. Take it easy, 
Dannie, for we are in no hurry.” 

Mary had settled back as if ready to enjoy the ride. 
She was unusually quiet, and seemed to Burton as he 

171 


172 


THE PA TRTOT 


looked at her in the moonlight to be more beautiful than 
she had ever appeared before. 

Her large eyes looked like shining stars as she turned 
them toward him to smile and show her appreciation of 
any remark he made. 

Suddenly Burton said, after a moment of silence, 
“Mary, you know I promised, before we were married, 
to tell you some of my family history. Shall I tell you 
tonight as we drive home ?” 

“Rob,” she said, “I don’t want to hear it until we 
are married. I have given you my entire trust ; I believe 
in you. There was a time before our runaway when I 
felt I must know all about you before I could let you say 
a word. Now I feel so entirely different that I want 
to hear nothing until I take the irrevocable step. I want 
to do this to prove to you that I do trust you completely, 
even though I may have had doubts before that happy 
day when I learned my heart.” 

“You are generous and kind, Mary. My constant 
prayer is that I may prove worthy of such a jewel as God 
has put into my care. I do not tell you because I expect 
the matter to be cleared up soon. But, Mary, there is 
another question I would like to ask you. It is this : Do 
you believe, as I do, that the safety of the race depends 
upon its obedience to the highest and latest manifesta- 
tions of God’s plan for the salvation of men, the govern- 
ment by the people? This disregard of law, Mary, I be- 
lieve to be suicide. One of the great journals of civil- 
ization, the Outlook, said a few weeks ago, 'Disregard of 


THE PA TRIOT 


i73 


law is by no means confined to the so-called anarchists. 
It is one of the vices of democracy manifested in Ameri- 
can life.’ ” 

“Yes, Rob, I believe that God has especially in the 
last hundred years made government a means of doing 
his work. There are inherent social laws that are as 
divine as natural law. It is the business of government 
to find these out, and the only way that can be done is to 
obey the ones we have put into the code. But, Rob, I 
have thought of asking you this. Are there circum- 
stances where one can break the law?” 

“Yes,” answered Burton. “If we find a law that we 
believe is wrong we can break it, but must do so openly, 
and proclaim our breaking of it, and then be willing to 
suffer the consequences. Mary, you cannot know how 
thankful I am that you think I am right to stand and 
continue to stand for the enforcement of law, that is, 
every law to its fullest extent, for only in that way, as I 
have emphasized again and again, can we hope to have 
a perfect system of civil law.” 

“Rob, I believe you are on the right track. I want 
you to stick to it, no matter what happens. Remember, 
no matter what happens.” 

“Mary,” replied Burton, smiling happily, “you have 
wonderfully strengthened me. As I have seen friends 
growing cold and noticed others looking at me as if 
they thought I was insane, I have been tempted many 
times to give up and go with the current. But this is 
true of man and always has been, if the woman to whom 


174 


THE PA TRIOT 


he has given his heart believes in him, a hostile world is 
welcomed, not feared. You see, Mary, if I am able to 
make this old nation, or even a small portion of it, awake 
to the great and God-given importance of the civil law, 
that you are the one, after all, who does it. God bless 
you, sweetheart.” 

“Rob, please do not flatter me so. You are the one 
that gives me strength to believe and encourage you in 
this undertaking. I do not see how you can give me 
credit for it.” 

“Well, you may not see it, but it is nevertheless true 
that if it were not for you I believe I would make a grand 
fizzle of the whole thing. Who knows how it is going to 
turn out, anyway?” 

“No one makes a fizzle of anything,” Mary exclaimed, 
“provided he does as his conscience directs.” 

“Are you sure?” Burton asked. 

“Yes, I am,” Mary answered with conviction. “Some 
little weak finite mind may look at a great many efforts 
of other finite creatures, and brand them as miserable 
failures, but the Infinite knows that in those failures is 
contained the seed that saves the world.” 

“You are right,” Burton replied musingly. “You are 
right. Our work is judged not in the light of a decade 
but as it affects eternity.” 

During this conversation Dannie had jogged along, ' 
and they had now reached the last descent, which was 
about forty rods long. At the bottom of this descent the 


THE PA TRIOT 


i75 


hill road turned into the lake road. This lake road led 
down by Squire Colter’s, a mile below. As they drew 
near the bottom Mary said, “Isn’t that some one, on foot, 
where the roads meet?” 

“I believe so,” Burton answered. As he turned 
Dannie into the lake road they saw that what they had 
seen was a man walking down the road. When they 
overtook the man, Burton recognized him and stopped. 
“Why, good evening, Deacon Reid,” he said. 

“Good evening, Mr. Burton.” 

“Where are you going, deacon? Isn’t it rather late, to 
be starting out on foot ?” 

“Well, you see mother,” replied the deacon, who al- 
ways called his wife mother, “mother was taken with her 
rheumatism tonight and when we looked for the liniment 
it was all gone. I am going into Richton to get some 
more.” 

“But why do you go on foot, deacon ?” queried Bur- 
ton. 

“Well, my horse has a lame shoulder and I don’t like 
to take him out. This air is chilly after dark and I am 
afraid it would make him worse.” 

“Now, I tell you what we will do, deacon. You get 
in my buggy and drive over to Richton. Mary and I 
will walk down home. You will get back from Richton 
to the Squire’s just about the time we reach there, for we 
will walk slowly.” 


176 


THE PATRIOT 


“Yes, I’ve no doubt, I’ve no doubt,” said the deacon 
softly. 

“Then I will bring you back,” continued Burton, smil- 
ing at the deacon’s insinuation. “In this way, deacon, 
you will make the journey quicker.” 

“I believe I will take advantage of your offer, Mr. 
Burton, provided Mary is willing,” the deacon said. 

“Yes, indeed,” answered Mary. “It is such a beauti- 
ful night that I shall enjoy being out just as long as I 
can.” 

“Very well, I guess I’ll take the rig.” 

Burton jumped out quickly and helped Mary out, 
then the deacon stepped in and drove away. He had 
gone only a few hundred feet, and was still plainly 
visible in the bright moonlight, when a man rushed out 
of the woods on the upper side of the road. This man 
grabbed Dannie by the bridle and turned him into a 
fence corner, then with a club struck the old man a 
fearful blow. As the blow was struck Burton shouted 
and began running toward the buggy. The man turned 
and looked. It seemed as if he had not noticed Burton 
and Mary before. When he saw them he ran hastily 
back into the woods and disappeared. 

As the man disappeared Burton stopped and stood 
dumbfounded. As he stood Mary rushed up and grasped 
his arm and gasped, “My God, Rob, that man was 
Charlie!” 

“He certainly looked like Charlie,” answered Bur- 
ton. “One can’t mistake that coat and hat. Hurry up, 



Mary Gasped, “My God, Rob, That Man was Charlie.” 





THE PA TRIOT 


*77 


let us see if the deacon is much hurt. It was a terrific 
blow. I am afraid he is killed.” 

But Mary could walk no more, for she had fainted. 
Burton picked her up in his strong arms and carried 
her to the buggy. Dannie, for a wonder, had stopped 
quietly in the fence corner. Burton now laid Mary 
gently down on the grass by the side of the road. Then 
he looked into the buggy. He believed from the dea- 
con's looks that the blow had either killed him out- 
right or would prove fatal in a short time. He scarcely 
knew how to manage. It was impossible to put Mary 
into the buggy with the deacon, besides he dared not 
leave her out of his reach. He finally took Mary in 
his arms, after he had tied Dannie’s hitching strap 
around one arm; then in this way he was able to carry 
her and lead Dannie. He now started towards Seton’s, 
the nearest house. 

Of course Mary was a very precious burden to 
him, but she was a healthy young lady, and he had 
gone less than half the distance, when he realized that 
his strong arm could not hold out much longer. He 
was just about to put her down and rest, when he felt 
her moving, then she whispered in his ear, for her rosy 
lips were touching his cheek, “Let me walk now, dear; 
I feel better. I am too heavy for you.” 

Burton pressed his lips passionately to hers and she 
clung to him for a moment, then he let her down, and 
they walked on as rapidly as they could. 


i 7 8 


THE PA TRIOT 


"‘Where are you going?” she asked in an almost 
inaudible whisper. 

He whispered as he answered her. They were too 
wrought upon by what they had seen to be able to 
speak. He said, “I am taking you to Seton’s, and I 
want to send for a doctor.” 

"Is the deacon much hurt?” she faltered. 

“Yes, I am afraid that he will never get over it. I 
felt of his pulse before starting; he is still alive, but I 
fear that he will never get well.” 

“You recognized his assailant, as well as I did, did 
you not ?” asked Mary, a sob breaking her voice. 

“Yes, I am afraid I did. I pray God that somehow 
it will turn out differently. Let us hope for the best. 
Here we are at Seton’s. You must go in for a while 
until we can arrange to get you on home. Be brave, 
little one. We must see what we can do for the deacon 
immediately.” 

“O, yes, Rob, don’t worry about me. Save the old 
man if you can ; he was such a good friend to us both.” 

Burton now knocked and soon Mr. Seton appeared 
at the door. Burton said, “Mr. Seton, Deacon Reid 
has been assaulted up the road about half a mile. Please 
come and help me ; he is out here in the buggy. I will 
explain as we are getting him in. Mrs. Seton, will you 
kindly make Mary as comfortable as possible? She has 
had a terrible shock.” Then, aside to Mary, “Don’t 
say we thought we recognized any one; that is not 
necessary, at least at present.” 


THE PA TRIOT 


179 


On the way out to the buggy Burton explained 
briefly to Mr. Seton how the tragedy occurred. When 
they reached the buggy the deacon was still breathing, 
but very heavily. They lifted him out carefully and 
carried him into the house. 

Fred immediately took Dannie and hastened to Rich- 
ton for a doctor. In a very short time he returned with 
a physician. The doctor made a short but thorough ex- 
amination. After a moment he said, “I think there is 
no hope. The deacon is too old to rally from the shock. 
He has been struck squarely over the head with a club, 
evidently about the size of a ball bat/’ 

Mrs. Reid was sent for, because the doctor said the 
deacon might die at any moment, and that possibly he 
would be conscious just before he passed away. 

After Fred returned with the doctor he took Mary 
home and told the Colters what had happened. Burton 
said that he would remain for the night at Seton’s. He 
was afraid the shock would be too great for Mary, and 
asked the doctor to give her a sleeping tablet before she 
went home. As he was helping her into the buggy he 
whispered in her ear, “Be brave, sweetheart, we are in 
God's hands." 

About ten o’clock that night Deacon Reid opened 
his eyes and recognized his wife, who was sitting quietly 
at his bedside. He feebly patted her hand. Then he 
saw Burton and stretched out his other hand and said, 
“Dear pastor, be careful. Some one injured me in 
trying to take your life, for my assaulter said as he 


i8o 


THE PA TRIOT 


struck me, Take that, you miserable preacher.’ As I 
had the top of the buggy up to keep out the air, he 
evidently did not see me plainly and thought he was 
striking you. Now, mother, I am going to sleep a little, 
I am so tired.” 

The deacon then turned his head as if about to sleep. 
He breathed one long, deep sigh, and was dead. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE ARREST. 


The same day that Mary and Burton visited the 
camp of the Holy Rollers, Charlie Colter went with the 
Richton base ball nine to Hilltown to play ball. Hill- 
town was about four miles above the camp meeting 
grounds. During the game of ball there was consid- 
erable rowdyism manifested and much liquor was in evi- 
dence. Afterwards it was told by some of the boys that 
Charlie had been particularly boisterous and drank more 
than any of the other young fellows. 

At last the game broke up in a row, and most of 
the players went down to the camp of the Holy Rollers. 
They reached the camp about half an hour after Mary 
and Burton had gone. Here they began to create consid- 
erable disturbance, but as a majority of those present 
were sympathizers of the camp meeting folk, the young 
fellows were unceremoniously hustled away. 

As they drove away it was noticed that Charlie had 
gotten possession of a couple of bottles of whiskey and 
was drinking recklessly. He became very boisterous, 
and finally quarrelsome. Finally he was put out of the rig 
in which the players were returning to Richton, then he 
went wandering off through the woods and over the 
hills, but seemed to have sense enough to take the direc- 
tion toward home. 

181 


i 82 


THE PA TRIOT 


It was on this same evening, of course, that Fred 
Seton went for the doctor to attend Deacon Reid, and 
naturally he told something about what had happened. 
The news spread rapidly through the village, and it was 
soon suggested that a posse be sent in search of the 
assailant, who no doubt would prove to be a murderer, 
for no one had much hope of the old deacon surviving 
the assault. The constable took charge of the matter 
and soon had together some reliable men, whom he took 
with him, and all others were told to stay behind. 

When the posse reached the place of the attack they 
turned into the woods, then scattering out began to 
hunt. The moon was very bright, and threw enough 
light through the branches of the trees to enable the 
searchers to see fairly well. They did not have much 
hope of finding any one, but thought that in following 
the trail so soon afterwards, they might possible dis- 
cover something that would help them in a more extended 
search the next day. 

They had penetrated the woods only about half a 
mile when some of the party discovered Charlie Colter 
lying dead drunk by the side of a large tree. His coat 
and hat were off and were lying by his side. They 
were of a peculiar make and color. He had belonged to 
some society at college that had worn this kind of a 
coat and hat, as a costume to designate their membership. 
They were the only kind in the community at Richton, 
and Charlie had been in the habit of wearing them. He 
wore them the day he went to play ball. Near the 


THE PA TRIOT 183 

coat and hat was a ball bat. On the end of this were 
some drops of blood. 

When the searchers discovered Charlie they could 
scarcely believe their eyes. The circumstances certainly 
pointed to him as the assaulter. They did not wish to 
take and hold him in custody unless they had more evi- 
dence, and thought that they would wait until things 
developed more, and perhaps at the inquest the testimony 
of Burton and others would bring out the case more 
definitely. The constable desired to take this course, 
for he held his office through the influence of Squire 
Colter. 

This officer now said, “We will take Charlie to his 
home and when the coroner’s inquest is held we can 
furnish the things we have found. It seems to me that 
is the thing to do.” 

They all agreed that they should move slowly in 
the matter, so Charlie was carried down to the lake 
road. He was there taken into a carriage and they 
started home with him. He still remained in his drunken 
stupor. They passed Seton’s house just about the time 
the good old deacon was breathing his last. 

Mary had gone home a couple of hours before, and 
when her mother saw what a shock her nerves had re- 
ceived, she sent her immediately to bed. The sleeping 
tablet the doctor had given her soon brought sleep to 
the poor over-wrought girl. She was sleeping soundly 
when the men came bringing Charlie home and was 
spared the sight of seeing her father’s and mother’s 
sorrow, when they beheld Charlie’s condition. 


184 


THE PAT RIOT 


When the party drove up the constable went and 
knocked quietly, for the Squire and Mrs. Colter were 
sitting up discussing the assault on the deacon, and 
wondering and worrying a little about Charlie’s lateness. 
When the knock came the Squire opened the door and 
said, “Good evening.” 

The constable answered, “Good evening, Squire. I 
wish you would step out a moment.” When the Squire 
had stepped out and closed the door the constable con- 
tinued, “A few of us fellows were coming down the 
road when we found Charlie. He isn’t in just the right 
condition. The fact is, I am afraid he has been drinking.” 

“It cannot be possible,” the Squire said stiffly, yet 
with agitation. “There never yet was a Colter that let 
liquor get the best of him. Where is the young man?” 

“We have him over in the carriage. You can come 
and see for yourself. You can be thankful if his condi- 
tion turns out to be the worst thing about him this 
fatal evening,” answered the constable warmly, for the 
Squire’s manner was very over-bearing. 

“Lift the boy out,” commanded the Squire, his voice 
quivering with emotion. “He must have had a shock 
of some kind. I think some one had better go for the 
doctor.” 

“All he needs is to sleep it off. He is drunk,” said 
some one bluntly. 

“How dare you, sir, make such a statement !” shouted 
the Squire. “Let me get closer to my son.” He then 


THE PAT RIOT 185 

stooped over Charlie and said, “Charlie, Charlie, my 
boy, wake up! What is the matter with you?” 

Charlie’s only reply was that he rolled over and as 
he did so, muttered a few incoherent oaths. The Squire 
shuddered as he straightened up. 

“We found this in his pocket,” the constable said 
as he handed the Squire a flask partly filled with whiskey. 
What shall we do. Squire? Shall we carry him into the 
house ?” 

Mrs. Colter, attracted by the talking, had now come 
to the door. As she stood there, her whole appearance 
begged for gentle treatment. She was slightly stooped 
with years, and the snows of sixty odd winters had 
whitened her locks. There was an anxious look in her 
eyes now, as she stood with a small hand-lamp in one 
hand while she shaded her eyes from the light with 
the other and peered out toward the group. “What is 
it, father?” she asked anxiously of the Squire. “Has 
any one been hurt?” 

The Squire walked over to her quickly and said, 
“Mother, they have brought Charlie home. He does 
not seem to be hurt, but is in a kind of a stupor. The 
men say that he is drunk. I can scarcely believe it, but 
I fear that such is the case. What shall we do with 
him ?” 

“Why, bring him into the house, of course. He is 
our son, is he not?” she answered. 

“Yes. All right, gentlemen, will you please carry 
Charlie in? Leave him right in this room,” the Squire 
said. 


i86 


THE PA TRIOT 


"‘Lay him right on our bed; it is downstairs/’ Mrs. 
Colter said. “We can pull his shoes off and he will 
be better off there.” 

Probably one of the saddest pictures in all the world, 
is a mother, bent with age, the tears running down her 
cheeks, furrowed by time, pulling and tugging to take 
the shoes off of a stalwart son who lies in a drunken 
stupor. 

Mrs. Colter removed Charlie’s shoes and made him 
as comfortable as she could on the bed in the room she 
and the Squire usually occupied. As she worked about 
him her tears flowed unchecked and she gave utterance 
to many and deep sighs. 

When she came out into the living room, she found 
the Squire sitting down with his head bowed upon his 
hands. He raised up as she came in and saw that his 
face was white and drawn. She began to ease her own 
troubled heart by trying to comfort him. She said, 
“Father, in some way or other Charlie has been fooled 
into drinking that vile liquor. I know that my boy 
would never voluntarily get into such a habit. Perhaps 
some one even took and forced him to drink.” 

As the Squire did not answer but sat and looked 
blankly before him, she rambled on, “Charlie has always 
been such a good boy to me. Of course I know he has 
been inclined to be a little wild at times, but never before 
this have we had any positive evidence that he has done 
real bad things. When they sent him home from college, 
Charlie said he believed they did it out of jealousy, be- 


THE PA TRIOT 


187 

cause he won so many of the games and no one else 
had a chance, and it made the boys angry and they told 
lies about him to the faculty. I believe there was some- 
thing in it. In the morning when Charlie is himself he 
will explain this to us in such a way that we will know 
he is not altogether to blame.” 

“Mother,” the Squire said softly, “comfort your old 
heart as best you may. But I am afraid that Charlie 
has not taken this last and extreme fall all at once. I 
fear that he has blinded our fond eyes to many of his 
escapades. What we want to do now is to quit worry- 
ing, for the night at least, and go to bed, for we will 
probably have enough to contend with tomorrow and in 
the future.” 

The Squire and Mrs. Colter now went upstairs, 
where they occupied Charlie’s room, but they were not 
able to sleep, and tossed and talked until nearly morn- 
ingj when they both fell into a heavy slumber. They did 
not wake up until nearly eight o’clock. Then they arose 
hurriedly and hastened downstairs. They found that 
Mary had just come down, for her sleeping tablet had 
done its work well. 

Charlie had awakened along about six o’clock. At 
first he did not know where he was. But soon he real- 
ized that he was in his father’s and mother’s room. Then 
he jumped up quickly, pulled on his shoes and slipped 
out through the kitchen. He took a cold wash at the 
pump. This made him feel considerable better. He 
knew that his father and mother must know that he 


i88 


THE PATRIOT 


had come home drunk. He took the milk pails and 
went out and milked. Then, as no one was yet moving 
in the house, he busied himself with other chores. When 
at last he saw that the fire was started and that they 
were moving about inside, he went boldly in, resolved 
to “face the music.” He thought that he could lie out 
of the matter in some way. 

When he went in no one said anything, except 
“Good morning,” and he almost hoped against hope that 
they knew nothing of the matter. But he soon learned 
differently, for after breakfast the Squire said, “Charlie, 
I wish you and Mary and mother would come into the 
front room. I want to have a little talk with you.” 

When they were all seated the Squire said, “Charlie, 
you were brought home drunk last night. What have 
you to say for yourself?” 

“Well,” began Charlie glibly, “the boys gave me 
some pop to drink, and there must have been something 
stronger in it, for it made my head feel quite queer, and 
after that I suppose I drank more of it and got worse.” 

“Hush, Charlie,” said the Squire severely. “You 
are lying. Where are your coat and hat, young man?” 

At this question Charlie looked about him blankly 
and said, “Why, why, I don’t know.” 

It was at this moment that the hard blow fell. When 
the evening before the constable reported, to the sheriff 
by telephone, under what suspicious circumstances 
Charlie Colter was found, the sheriff thought it was 
time for immediate action. A warrant was issued for 


THE PA TRIOT 


189 


Charlie’s arrest, to hold him pending an inquiry into 
the facts. As Charlie said “I don’t know,” there came 
a loud knock at the door. When it was opened the 
sheriff came in and said to Charlie, “Charlie Colter, it 
is my painful duty to arrest you, because of the sus- 
picious circumstances connected with the murder of Dea- 
con Reid. I hope for your old father and mother’s sake, 
as well as your own, that you can speedily go free.” 

“My God, sheriff,” exclaimed Charlie, who had grown 
very white, “there must be some horrible mistake. What 
are you talking about?” 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE TRIAL. 


Charlie Colter’s arrest, and his subsequent holding 
for trial, for the murder of Deacon Reid, created the 
greatest sensation that Richton had ever experienced in 
its history of over a hundred years. He was taken to 
the county seat and put in jail to await the next session 
of court, which convened in about two weeks. . 

Squire Colter, although not a resident of the county 
seat, had in a long and useful life become well known 
all over the county and through a large part of western 
New York. He had served his town on the Board of 
Supervisors for about thirty years, without a break. 
His wise counsel had been sought and accepted by al- 
most every man who wished to become prominent in 
politics. Many had often urged the Squire to run for 
representative of his county in the Assembly at Albany, 
but he had steadfastly refused, as he much preferred to 
spend his life quietly on his farm near Richton. But 
he was active in politics in every campaign, and was 
often in the county seat to attend the rallies of his party 
and was always a welcome guest and speaker. 

When the news of Charlie’s arrest was noised about 
in the county seat it was scarcely believed. When it 
was finally learned that it was true there were five 
lawyers who wrote to the Squire proferring their services 

190 


THE PATRIOT 


191 

gratis. These lawyers were prominent not only in their 
home city, but two of them had a state reputation and 
their careers had been outwardly honest and brilliant.” 

When the Squire received the letters he almost broke 
down while reading them. He appreciated the kindness 
greatly. He wrote the most prominent one, Dick Reiter, 
who was a millionaire, and told him to confer with the 
others, and that he would leave the boy’s defense entirely 
in their hands. 

During the two weeks, from the time of Charlie’s 
arrest until the trial, Burton and Mary were together 
about as much as they had been before. However, they 
could never bring themselves to talk about that tragic 
night. They pushed it aside by common consent, for 
already Tt began to seem as if it would be a barrier 
between them. 

As the trial drew near, Burton saw that Charlie’s 
conviction would probably rest upon his evidence. He 
did not know whether Mary had thought the matter 
through and saw it this way or not. Then he began 
to wonder if God had not placed him in a harder place 
than he could fill. He looked ahead and in imagination 
could see himself staggering between two great desires, 
one, to be a true citizen to his country, the other, to 
still keep Mary for his own. He did not believe that 
it would be possible for him to have both of his desires. 
He often awoke from troubled sleep and found himself 
saying wildly, “I have failed, I have failed.” When he 
tried to think the dream through he could not think 


I$2 


THE PA TRIOT 


whether in his dream he had lost Mary or whether he 
had proven untrue to his ideal citizenship. 

Mary was very calm during these days. Her suffer- 
ings had touched the deepest depths of her nature, and 
her face showed a deep peace which came because of 
communion with God. She was paler, and now her 
eyes looked out with a deeper lustre, candid, true, shin- 
ing with unshed tears. She desired companionship and 
was most pleased when with Burton. And although 
he did not know, she had divined somewhat of the 
struggle through which he was passing, but gave him 
no help, for she felt this must be his own battle. Then 
she was afraid if they began to talk about it that they 
would both go with their desires and not do the right 
from principle. She desired that Burton should be 
strong for principle's sake, and not because he had been 
propped by her. 

When the two weeks had dragged by and the day 
set for Charlie’s trial arrived, the county seat had as 
many people as ever came to a political rally or to a 
Fourth of July celebration. When the great crowd was 
seen, it was said by many that if law, influence and pop- 
ularity could free a man that Charlie would never be 
convicted. Everything looked as if it was going Charlie’s 
way. The judge was a life-long friend of the Squire’s 
and it was almost certain to prove true that many of 
the jurors would be friends of long standing, of both 
Charlie and the Squire. 

The first and second days were taken up in getting 


THE P AT RIOT 


i93 


a jury. Men are always reluctant to try a man for his 
life and they were especially unwilling in this case. All 
kinds of excuses were offered, but finally with much per- 
severance a jury was secured. 

The evidence came in slowly. Witnesses were re- 
luctant to speak of the things they knew. On the after- 
noon of the third day Mrs. Reid, the wife of the mur- 
dered deacon, was called. Among many other questions 
she was asked by the attorney for the state, if she 
knew of any reason why the defendant should make an 
assault upon her husband. 

She replied, “I do not. Charlie Colter and Mr. Reid 
were the best of friends. I think Mr. Reid had more 
influence over him than any one outside of his own 
family. ,, 

“Why do you think an assault was made on your 
husband that night ?” queried the lawyer. 

“I think the one who made the attack thought he 
was striking some one else, ,, she answered. 

“Will you tell the jury why you think the assaulter 
thought he was making his attack on some one else?” 

“That is my view,” she answered, “because of a re- 
mark Mr. Reid made just before he died. He was 
conscious for a moment, and he turned to Mr. Burton, 
our pastor, and told him that his assailant spoke in 
such a way, just as he struck, that he believed the 
attack was made on him under the belief that he was 
Mr. Burton.” 

“How do you account for the fact that the assault 
was made on Mr, Reid instead of on Mr. Burton?” 


194 


THE PA TRIOT 


“Well,” she answered, “Mr. Reid had just a moment 
before gotten into Mr. Burton’s buggy and Mr. Burton 
and Mary Colter had gotten out to walk. The man evi- 
dently recognized the horse and supposed Mr. Burton 
was back in the buggy and so struck without looking 
very closely.” 

“Will you tell the jury the reason, if you know of 
any, why the defendant should make an attack upon Mr. 
Burton ?” 

“I know of none,” she answered. 

After a few more questions Mrs. Reid was excused 
and Fred Seton was called. When Fred was sworn he 
was asked if he was acquainted with the defendant. 
Fred indicated that he was. 

“Are you acquainted with a Mr. Burton, pastor of 
the church at Richton?” 

Fred replied that he was. “Now, Mr. Seton,” con- 
tinued the lawyer, “will you explain to the jury in a 
few words any incident in the acquaintance of the de- 
fendant and Mr. Burton that would make the defendant 
anxious to get revenge?” 

“Well,” answered Fred, “it would depend somewhat 
upon the defendant’s make-up. There is an incident 
that was not altogether a happy one.” Then Fred told 
of the fight in the old saw-mill. 

“How did you learn of this happening?” asked the 
lawyer. “Did Mr. Burton blow about it?” 

“He did not,” Fred said indignantly. “I learned 
about it by seeing it myself, but this is the first time I 


THE PA TRIOT 


*95 


ever mentioned it. I wanted to go with Mr. Burton 
that evening, but he did not wish me to do so. However, 
I decided to go alone and I was at the saw mill before 
any one else, concealed as was Mr. Burton, but no one 
knew about my being there. Mr. Burton never knew 
of my presence until I just now told about it.” 

“Did Mr. Burton secure the ill will of any other 
person at the saw mill that evening?” asked the lawyer. 

“Probably he did, for Bill Carter got even a worse 
dose than Charlie Colter. He threw him upon the crowd 
of men and broke down the seats,” answered Fred 
proudly. 

Fred was now excused. 

Court was soon afterwards adjourned. The people 
dispersed to their homes and to the hotels. Friends of 
Charlie began to look happier. They felt that with the 
legal talent that he had on his side, and the evidence 
that was being secured that he was sure of an acquittal. 


CHAPTER XX. 

SQUIRE COLTER KNEELS TO BURTON. 

That evening the lawyers who were defending 
Charlie sent a message to the Squire to meet them for a 
few moments at the home of Dick Reiter. The Squire 
immediately answered the summons. As he walked up 
the broad steps to the palatial house of his friend, he 
felt that in some way his boy would go free. 

When the Squire was ushered into the parlor he 
found all five of his lawyers present. After they had 
conversed a moment on other topics, Dick Reiter said, 
“Squire, the witnesses that we have called, and the ones 
that will be called, have and can give nothing but cir- 
cumstantial evidence to incriminate your son. This is 
true of all the witnesses except one. We know the 
circumstances so well that we know that he will swear 
that to the best of his knowledge and belief that the 
murderer of Deacon Reid was your boy Charlie. This 
witness is Mr. Burton. We can free your son if Mr. 
Burton’s testimony is withheld, or is non-committal. He 
can easily say that he is unable to speak definitely about 
who the assaulter was. We feel that this is the only 
hope of saving Charlie’s life. You must exert your 
influence in some way so that Mr. Burton will give 
non-committal testimony.” 


196 


THE PA TRIOT 


197 


“Thank you, gentlemen, thank you very much for 
your cordial sympathy,” the Squire said with deep emo- 
tion. “I will do what I can to save my boy.” 

The lawyers now changed the topic. They talked and 
chatted for about half an hour, when the Squire excused 
himself and went back to his hotel. After he was gone 
Dick Reiter said, “Gentlemen, Squire Colter is one of 
the best men in this county, yes, one of the best men in 
the state. Not only is he the intellectual peer of any 
man in the state, but for solid worth he is the equal 
of any one. I may be somewhat prejudiced, but the 
Squire has helped me a great deal. It was through his 
advice that I was able to make the splendid financial 
investments that I did. It is largely because of him 
that I am a millionaire today. The Squire never cared 
to go into such things himself, but preferred to stay on 
the farm. Now I had decided some time ago to make a 
gift to my alma mater of one hundred thousand dollars. 
With this in view, and not wishing my name to go before 
the public, I secured the money in currency. It is in 
my safe now, ten ten-thousand dollar bills. I am going 
to offer half of it to this preacher if he will only say 
that he did not recognize the man who struck the deacon 
the fatal blow. I would do anything for the Squire,” 
he said, half-apologetically. “I love the old man and 
his boy Charlie has had lesson enough, and it will not 
hurt society to have one fellow go free. Come on, let 
us hurry down to Mr. Burton’s hotel before the Squire 
goes to see him.” 


Reiter now unlocked his safe and took out the bills 
and placed them in a large envelope, and then led the 
way. They were soon in Burton’s room. When Burton 
had them all seated, he had no chair for himself, and 
he stood in the centre of the room by a small table. 
He looked inquiringly at them as if to ask their mission. 
He was not left long in doubt. 

Dick Reiter arose and faced him and began bluntly, 
“Mr. Burton,” he said, “this young fellow Charlie has 
had lesson enough, for one new in crime, that is, if 
he committed the deed. Now the evidence is all cir- 
cumstantial except that which you will probably give. 
What difference does it make if the state does not get 
this one man? There are plenty other worse ones who 
go free. I want you to say in your testimony, when 
you are called tomorrow morning, that you did not 
recognize the man who assaulted Deacon Reid. Here are 
five ten-thousand dollar bills in this envelope. They 
are yours now, without a word from you. You simply 
say that you do not know who struck the fatal blow. 
Don’t revolt at this; don’t say anything. What is it 
you are doing? An old man’s son is about to suffer 
the extreme penalty of the law, and you save him by 
a word. I, in my gratitude, for I love the old Squire, 
give to you, a representative of the church, a gift. Now, 
good evening, Mr. Burton. Think this over, for there 
is a 'higher law’ that will clear your conscience.” 

The lawyers now hastened from the room, for Bur- 
ton never said a word but looked so strangely at them 


THE PA TRIOT 


199 


that they were almost frightened. After they were gone 
Burton picked up the envelope and took out the bills. 
It was more money than he had ever seen before. He 
walked back and forth with them in his hands for a 
moment, then he thrust them back into the envelope 
and laid it on the table. He sat down and rested his 
elbows on his knees with his head in his hands. 

He had been in this attitude only a moment, when 
there came another knock at his door, and in answer 
to his summons Squire Colter walked in. Burton jumped 
up and placed a chair for the Squire. The Squire talked 
for a little while in a rambling way, and then said, 
“Mr. Burton, Charlie isn’t a bad boy. If he did this 
awful deed it was under the influence of liquor and not 
from a bad heart. He is young; he has already been 
amply punished, as one can see by his looks. Now, if 
you recognized the man who made the assault on the 
deacon, for my sake and for the sake of the honored 
name of Colter, be non-committal in your testimony to- 
morrow. The lawyers tell me that they will be able to 
free him unless your testimony is such as to incriminate 
him. I beg you to think of a poor old father’s heart. 
O, my God, it will kill his mother if he is found guilty. 
I am sure that God will record it as a good deed if you 
will help my son to escape. I go now, but before I go 
I do something never done before. Mr. Burton, Squire 
Colter is an honored man in this state. I have had 
governors and senators and legislators ask and act upon 
my advice. Ten years ago I entertained a vice presi- 


200 


THE PATRIOT 


dent of the United States at my home, and was offered 
a foreign commission. Today I hold enough influence 
in this state to change the coming election, and New 
York will change the national politics. Yes, it is true,” 
mused the old man, “yes, it is true, Mr. Burton, the 
Squire Colter who has been and is still honored by the 
great men of the land, now gets down upon his knees 
and begs you to free his son.” 

The Squire now dropped upon his knees, and as the 
tears flowed down his cheeks and his whitened locks 
fell upon his shoulders, he lifted his hands and begged 
Burton in broken accents, “Free my boy, free my boy.” 

The next that Burton realized was that he was alone. 
The Squire had arisen and gone quietly from the room. 
But he was not left long to think over the strange hap- 
penings, for he had one more caller that evening, and 
that was Mrs. Colter. 

She came in and clasped Burton for a moment in her 
arms and then said very rapidly, “My boy, for you are 
to be my son soon, I love my son Charlie more than 
tongue can tell. The Squire told me tonight that 
Charlie's fate depended upon the testimony that you 
would give. O, if it is unfavorable, tell one little lie 
for mother's sake. You have taken little Helen to raise 
and you know how you have grown to love her in a few 
short months. You know how your heart ached when 
she was lost for a few short days. Charlie is my baby. 
I’ve had him not two or three months, but twenty and 
two years. I have seen him playing as a little child, 


THE P AT RIOT 


201 


making his mud marbles, his cheeks rosy with health, 
and his eyes dancing with laughter. I’ve seen him grow 
out of baby dresses and don the clothes of youth, and 
now he has become sturdy in his young manhood. He 
is a man, with aspirations of youth and the possibility 
of retrieving any mistakes. Oh, I’ll die if Charlie is 
found guilty. Oh, Rob, Rob, a mother’s heart cries 
out to you to tell one little lie for its sake.” 

Burton had not spoken to any of his other visitors. 
But he now said hoarsely to Mrs. Colter, “What does 
Mary say?” As he waited for her answer he paced 
up and down the floor, with the sweat standing in great 
drops upon his forehead. 

Mrs. Colter answered, “She says nothing. She walks 
the floor and cries as she murmurs, 'Poor Charlie, poor 
Charlie/ But I feel sure, if she knew of my visit here, 
she would have sent a message to you to do as I ask. 
Now I must go. Think it over, my boy, and do this 
for a mother’s love. Good night,” and she was gone. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

LOVE OR LAW? 


Burton was alone. The great battles are fought in 
secret. It was to be a battle royal, and Burton knew it. 
Most conflicts he welcomed, but this one he almost 
turned from in fright. Now he needed a woman’s hand 
to caress his brow, to give him strength for the fray. 
But the one he wanted for a consoler, he was about to 
fling from him, that is, if he decided for law instead 
of love. He picked up a book and tried to read, but 
soon threw it down in disgust; he walked up and down 
the room, humming an old plantation melody, but it 
soon stopped in his throat with a hoarse groan. Then 
he wandered over to the table and picked up the envelope 
with the money in it. 

The battle was now on. “Fifty thousand dollars,” 
he thought. “It means that I can live in security the 
rest of my days; it means that I can take that trip, so 
longed for, to old Palestine, and then on to the land 
of the midnight sun. It means a little home near some 
large city, where I can look down into a beautiful valley 
teeming with life and activity, and back of my house 
will be the great trees of the primeval forest, where I 
can go to quiet the troubled soul. It means books. O, 
how often I have longed for books that I have never 
been able to get because of the cost. It means such a 


202 






































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"Why Should I be so Cursed Patriotic. 



THE PA TRIOT 


20 3 


home, yes, and the home where Mary, the jewel of my 
heart, will be supreme in her wifely dignity and loveli- 
ness. What will bring me this? All I have to do is 
to say I did not recognize the man who struck Deacon 
Reid. Yes, that is all, then this money is all mine, mine 
to do with as I choose. 

“I am only doing what a thousand men out of a 
thousand would do. Am I to be an anomaly of human- 
ity? When I do this I am answering the highest call 
of the soul, love. I am a fool to think that anything 
else takes precedence of that. That old father kneeled 
to me and begged with tears in his eyes that I condemn 
not his son. Must I spurn his whitened locks as if he 
were a dog? That old mother, tottering with weakness 
and grief, came to me to plead. She loves her boy 
more than I love little Helen, who has been given me 
for my care, and I love Mary and she loves me, and if 
by my word they are disgraced, Mary cannot help but 
look upon me in scorn, for it will be impossible for her 
to overlook that. 

“Look at the men who have piled up wealth by break- 
ing and ignoring the law. They have not saved life, but 
by their lawlessness have taken it, yet they are honored 
by their nation and by their fellow men. This incident 
will soon be forgotten, even though I remain in this 
community, and I will become an honored citizen. 

“Why should I be so cursed patriotic? Why must 
I be so anxious to see the laws of this great nation 
enforced? What has it done for me? We were wealthy 


204 


THE PATRIOT 


with our hundreds of slaves and thousands of broad, 
fertile acres, but the nation came with its cruel war and 
took away the hard earned money, then left us desti- 
tute and afflicted. Oh, yes, this country has been so 
very kind to me that now I must throw away every fair 
prospect to honor its laws. 

“If there is a higher law that supersedes the civil, 
surely this is the place to put it into effect. Does not 
Victor Hugo say that the old priest’s lie was set down 
to his credit in heaven? Surely, when I save this rash 
boy, when I give him back into the arms of his old 
mother, the recording angel will give me credit for a 
good deed. 

“But then, Mary said she believed in law and its 
enforcement. She said she approved of my standing 
firmly for it; she has not signified definitely that she 
wanted something else, even in this grave crisis, but her 
silence is very ominous. When she said that, she did 
not know what trouble Charlie was going to get into. 

“But can I go against my teaching and my firmest 
convictions. It would be worse than criminal in me to 
do this. I cannot do it, O God, except I lose my soul. 
But am I not willing to lose my soul, if thus I can 
have Mary and can have her in no other way? But 
do I want her if I could only get her by perjuring 
myself, and would she want a liar? Ought she not to 
rise above the mere personal part, even in this severe 
trial of love and desire, and look upon it in the light 
of the good of all? 


THE PA TRIOT 


205 


“A young man slips up and strikes an old helpless 
man a fatal blow. The nation has decreed that one 
who does such shall suffer certain punishment. I am 
asked to tell what I know. As a citizen of this country 
I must be true, or, O my God, I will be lost. I am 
not responsible for results. The nation is. 

“Was it not by the breaking of law that all the 
sorrow came upon our family, and if I break law now, 
can I know, can any one know, what the consequences 
will be? If I obey, it is more than likely that every- 
thing will work out for the best; it may seem cruel 
and hard now; we may not be able to do our duty 
readily; we may try to escape, but is it not true that 
these things if the right is taken always work out good 
in the end? But God in heaven, perhaps Mary does not 
see things in this way. I’ll go mad ; I’ll surely go mad 
in this uncertainty.” 

It was now nearly eleven o’clock, but Burton 
snatched up his hat and went out upon the street. He 
thought that out under the eternal stars he would be 
calmer and his judgment clearer. The lights were out 
and the street was dark except for the dim light from 
the waning moon. As he stood a moment, with his hat 
off, looking up towards heaven, there came to his ears 
a song. 


206 


THE PA TRIOT 


“My country, ’tis of thee, 

Sweet land of liberty, 

Of thee I sing; 

Land where my fathers died, 

Land of the pilgrim’s pride, 

From every mountain side 
Let freedom ring.” 

“Ah, God is good,” murmured Burton. “He is point- 
ing me the way.” 

“My native country, thee, 

Land of the noble free, 

Thy name I love; 

I love thy rocks and rills, 

Thy woods and templed hills ; 

My heart with rapture thrills 
Like that above.” 

Came the song with fuller and deeper volume. “Some 
patriots thrilling their hearts with love for their land 
and its laws,” said Burton as he walked on. As he came 
to the corner, he saw lights in a building, the windows 
were open, and out upon the still night air poured the 
melody. 

“Let music swell the breeze, 

And ring from all the trees 
Sweet freedom’s song; 

Let mortal tongues awake, 

Let all that breathe partake, 

Let rocks their silence break, 

The sound prolong.” 


THE PATRIOT 


207 


“HI take a peep at these singers who have led me 
back to the right/’ Burton said as he walked down to 
where he could look into the open window of the ban- 
quet hall. It was a reception given in honor of Dick 
Reiter, who had been appointed by the president to a 
high office in the government. Burton now saw Dick 
standing with uplifted glass as he led the banqueters 
in the last verse of the national hymn. 

“Our fathers’ God, to Thee, 

Author of liberty, 

To Thee we sing; 

Long may our land be bright, 

With freedom’s holy light; 

Protect us by thy might, 

Great God our King.” 

“Yes, sing, men, sing,” said Burton bitterly as he 
turned away. “Show your patriotism only in song and 
words and then go and try to bribe people to break the 
country’s laws.” 

He now turned and walked rapidly down toward 
the hotel where the Colters were stopping. He knew 
where Mary’s room was and thought he might get some 
comfort in looking at her silent window. He thought 
that perhaps as he gazed a sweet peace would come to 
his soul and he would know the right thing to do. 
When he came in view of the hotel he saw that there 
was a light in her room. As he drew nearer, he saw 
that the curtains were tightly drawn, but Mary was up 


208 


THE PA TRIOT 


walking the floor. He could see her shadow upon the 
curtain as she passed back and forth across the room, 
and she seemed to be wringing her hands. As Burton 
looked he realized that she was passing through the 
same kind of an experience that he was. Would she 
reach the same conclusion? It renewed the fight in his 
own heart, and he rushed on down the street, trying to 
make himself so tired that he could no longer think. 
It was not until three o’clock that he went again to his 
room. He threw off part of his clothes and then laid 
down upon his bed. In a moment he was sleeping 
heavily. 

He awoke about six o’clock, but felt greatly rested. 
He arose and dressed, then picked up the envelope which 
contained the money, which he had left lying on the 
table all night, and put it in his pocket. He then went 
out for a short walk. It was not the swift feverish tread 
of the night before, but now he strolled along, seeming 
to enjoy the morning air and the sunshine. He had 
decided. 

He now went down to the court house and found 
the crowd to be larger than at any previous time. As 
he was going up the front steps he met the Squire. The 
Squire was as dignified and courtly as usual, but now 
he greeted Burton more affably than he had ever done. 
He extended his hand as he said, “Good morning, Mr. 
Burton. I trust you find yourself in good health this 
morning. Mother is feeling better. She went out for 
a little while last evening, and when she returned she 


THE PATRIOT 


209 


said she had been to see you. You must have given 
her some definite promise.” 

“Yes, Mrs. Colter called on me a little while after 
you had gone, but to her, as to you, I said nothing 
definite. I was too agitated. You know I made you 
no promise, Squire.” 

“Of course, of course,” answered the Squire. 

Mary and Mrs. Colter came up at this point. 

Burton and Mary now clasped hands. No word was 
spoken. They looked long and earnestly into each 
other’s eyes, and to Burton it seemed the last look of 
love. With a last fervent pressure of the hand, he 
turned and went up into the court room. 

As he was passing by an alcove he saw, within, the 
five lawyers for the defense. They were chatting and 
laughing, for they evidently believed that their case was 
all right, for no one, especially a poor preacher, could 
throw away so much money, when a mere word would 
gain it all. 

Soon afterward the clerk of the court called, “Robert 
Burton.” Burton took the stand and raised his hand 
to be sworn. The clerk then said in the usual rapid 
and incoherent manner, “You do solemnly swear that 
the testimony you shall give in the case, wherein the 
State of New York is plaintiff and Charles Colter is 
defendant, shall be the truth, the whole truth, and noth- 
ing but the truth, so help you God.” 

Burton asked, “Will you please repeat that oath, it 
was not clear?” 


210 


THE PATRIOT 


The clerk now said slowly and distinctly, “You do 
solemnly swear that the testimony you shall give in 
the case wherein the State of New York is plaintiff and 
Charles Colter is defendant, shall be the truth, the whole 
truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God.” 

Burton answered, “I do,” and sank into his seat 
amid a profound silence. 

Then he drew from his coat pocket the envelope with 
the bills in it and quietly handed it to the judge, and 
said, “I received this recently and now hand it to you, 
sealed, and will explain after this trial and then you 
can take whatever action you see fit.” 

If a bomb had exploded in the court room it would 
not have created more consternation. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE CONVICT'S SON. 

The Court said, “Mr. Burton, I am glad to see that 
you recognize the importance of the oath you have 
taken. The witness stand is a serious place to occupy, 
and it isn’t often that witnesses appreciate the solemnness 
of the oath they take. You have done a good service by 
having it repeated.” 

The prosecuting attorney now asked some prelim- 
inary questions, then said: 

“Now, Mr. Burton, please state in your own lan- 
guage the details of that evening as they relate to 
Deacon Reid and the defendant, Charles Colter.” 

Burton answered, “As we were coming down the 
last hill to turn into the lake road, we overtook Deacon 
Reid. He was walking to Richton and I offered him 
my buggy and Miss Colter and I got out to walk. We 
were probably fifty yards behind 1 at the time of the 
assault.” 

“What assault? Will you tell the jury about it?” 

“Well, when the deacon had driven on and gotten 
some yards ahead of us, a man rushed out of the woods 
at the side of the road, turned the horse into the fence, 
and then struck the deacon with a club, something like 


212 


THE P AT RIOT 


a ball bat. I shouted and began to run forward. The 
man turned and seemed to see us for the first time, then 
quickly skulked back into the woods.” 

“What did you do then?” 

“I carried the deacon on to the home of Mr. Seton, 
and there he died from the effects of the blow that he 
received, about ten o’clock the same evening.” 

“Now, Mr. Burton, did you rcognize the man that 
struck Deacon Reid?” 

Burton was silent a moment, and then said, “I did.” 

“You say that you recognized the man?” 

“Yes.” 

“Will you please tell the jury who he was?” 

Burton turned quickly to the jury as if he wished 
it over and said, “The man, to the best of my knowledge 
and belief, was Charlie Colter.” 

“Now, you said Miss Colter was with you at the 
time of the assault. Did she see the attack?” 

“Yes,” answered Burton, considerably agitated. He 
had not thought the examination would take this turn. 

“When you began to run forward what did she do?” 

“She ran too and grabbed me by the arm.” 

“Did she make any exclamation?” 

“Yes.” 

“What was it?” 

“She said, ” Burton faltered and looked appeal- 

ingly about, as if seeking an avenue of escape. “She 
said, 'My God, he is Charlie.’ ” 

At this there was a loud scream in the court room, 


THE PA TRIOT 


213 


and Burton saw over where the Colters were seated that 
either Mary or her mother, or both, had fainted. He 
thought that it was Mary. Now he felt sure that she 
had not expected his testimony to take this form. After 
all she had hoped that he would free Charlie in some 
way. As Burton realized this he grew deathly white and 
sick, and asked for a glass of water, which some one 
very kindly handed him. The Squire went out with those 
who carried out the fainting one, and poor Charlie 
looked as though he had already been found guilty. 

Burton now felt for sure that not only the Squire 
and Mrs. Colter but also Mary had in her innermost 
heart prayed that he would color his testimony in such 
a way as to free her brother. But he knew that he 
had done the right, and if he had lost by it, it was now 
too late to change. He looked ahead and saw that 
nothing but blank despair was to be his portion. But he 
resolved with even such prospect, that he would meet 
his lot bravely and continue his fight for the right as 
he saw it. 

The lawyers for the defense were now in consterna- 
tion. What were they to do? It looked as if their well 
laid plans had fallen through. In conversation one said, 
“What are we to do now? It looks as if Charlie was 
doomed. I think that we had better throw up the case 
and put him upon the mercy of the jury. ,, 

“No,” said Dick Reiter, “I’ll not do it. That scala- 
wag of a preacher has dared much, and I tell you I 
am going to follow him until he will be sorry. What 


214 


THE PATRIOT 


man’s record is clean? I’ll find out something about 
this honest preacher, and 111 expose him before all this 
crowd and weaken his testimony before these jurors or 
I miss my guess considerable. I’ll go to the Squire 
now and see if he doesn’t know something about the 
young man.” 

“I’ll trust you, Dick,” laughed one of the others, “to 
make a mountain out of a mole hill, but I sincerely 
trust that you will find a good big mountain and can 
make a whole range out of it.” 

This conversation was held during the noon recess. 
Dick now hastened away to see the Squire. When court 
was called for the afternoon session Dick was somewhat 
late in arriving, but when he came in he was smiling, 
and his colleagues concluded that he had surely, made a 
find. 

Burton was then recalled, and his cross examina- 
tion was given into Dick’s hands. 

“Mr. Burton,” Dick said maliciously, “you had ,a 
little rumpus at one time with the prisoner, according 
to the testimony, did you not?” 

“Why, yes, I suppose you might designate it in 
that way,” answered Burton hesitatingly. 

“You have never felt kindly toward him since that 
time, have you?” 

“On the contrary,” said Burton, “I have felt just the 
opposite, and have tried to show my good wishes in 
many ways.” 


THE PA TRIOT 


215 


“So you say, so you say,” murmured Dick. “Now,” 
he continued, “you were born in Kentucky, I believe 
you said.” 

“I was,” answered Burton. 

“According to Squire Colter’s testimony your father 
held slaves there before the war, and one escaped and 
made his way to Oberlin, Ohio, but he was borne tri- 
umphantly away from your father and his helpers, and 
this man Jim escaped through the efforts of three stu- 
dents, or would have escaped if he had not been drowned ? 
One of these students who took the slave out of the 
clutches of your father was Squire Colter. Is this not 
true?” 

“It is,” answered Burton almost inaudibly. 

Every one was now almost upon tiptoe listening with 
bated breath for the next question. “Your father wished 
especially to take this man Jim back to Kentucky be- 
cause he wished to fasten upon him the murder of the 
lieutenant-governor, did he not?” 

“Yes, father was sure that Jim had committed the 
murder and knew that if he was taken back that he 
would confess his crime,” answered Burton very dis- 
tinctly. 

“But,” continued Dick with a leer, “he did not take 
him back because of Squire Colter, and your father was 
tried for the murder and was convicted and sent to the 
penitentiary for life, and died there some years later, a 
convicted murdered, is this not true?” 


2l6 


THE PA TRIOT 


“It is,” Burton said. 

“Now you have always believed that the ones who 
helped Jim get away from your father were in a meas- 
ure responsible for his conviction of that dreadful crime, 
have you not?” 

“Yes, I have felt that way,” answered Burton. 

“And you for many years felt bitterly in your heart 
against these unknown ones, unknown to you at that 
time, and afterwards when the Squire was telling some 
old reminiscences and repeated this old happening, you 
then knew that he was the one who helped Jim to escape, 
and you got up and went out of the Squire’s house 
white and full of wrath. Is this not true?” 

“In a measure it is,” answered Burton very quietly. 

“You admit, then, that you had it in for those who 
brought about, indirectly, to your mind, the disgrace 
and punishment of your father?” 

“At one time, before I knew who had done this, I 
acknowledge that I felt very bitterly toward them,” 
answered Burton. 

“It isn’t easy to get over a bitter feeling of many 
years growth, is it, Mr. Burton?” 

“No, it isn’t, but one may do so,” answered Burton 
meaningly. 

“Now, Mr. Burton,” continued Dick, “according to 
your own testimony you are a convict’s son, are you 
not?” 

“Yes,” Burton said. 


THE PA TRIOT 


217 


“According to the records of the State of Kentucky 
your father was an inmate of the penitentiary for the 
blackest of crimes, that of murder/’ 

“Yes, the records will show that, I have no doubt,” 
Burton answered. 

“A convict’s son,” then said Dick with a sneer, “not 
only that, but is it not true that for one year you were 
an inmate of the same penitentiary?” 

“Yes, that is also true,” answered Burton with a 
wan smile. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

A LETTER FROM THE GOVERNOR. 

At this point court was adjourned until the next 
day. There was a great buzz of voices as people talked 
in undertones. One old man in speaking to a group 
said, “I tell you Dick Reiter is never beaten. When he 
takes a case for a man it doesn’t make any difference 
what the evidence is. Dick will win every time. He 
doesn’t care for law or the gospel, he will carry his 
point. Now the Squire is an old friend of his, in fact, 
they have been like brothers and Dick has set his heart 
on clearing Charlie and he will do it. He has knocked 
the testimony of the preacher galley-west. Dick in his 
speech will show that this Burton was prejudiced, that 
he wanted to pay back the Squire an old score, and that 
if he has not lied his prejudice has colored the way he 
saw and heard things.” 

In another group some one said: "I wonder what it 
can mean when he acknowledged that he also had been an 
inmate of the penitentiary for a year.” 

“I am sure I can’t tell,” Fred said. “Haven’t things 
taken queer turns in the last six months ? Staid old Rich- 
ton has been shaken from center to circumference and is 
furnishing one of the most sensational trials the state has 
218 


THE PA TRIOT 


219 


ever had. Sometimes it seems to me as if I was living in 
another world.” 

“How did it come about, anyway?” asked a young 
lady who was visiting some friends at Richton. 

“I believe,” Fred answered, “that the whole thing can 
be traced to the fact that one man believed that law was 
made to be enforced and acted upon that line. The major- 
ity of the people had ideas contrary to this view or else 
were indifferent to the whole matter, which in the end 
amounted to the same thing. And the end is not yet.” 

“No, indeed, the end is not yet. If Charlie is convicted 
it will be upon the testimony of Mr. Burton, and that 
will make the Squire his eternal enemy. What will Mary 
do? Would you marry a man who had been the means 
of convicting your brother of murder?” asked one girl of 
another. 

“Why, I couldn’t ; it would be impossible.” 

“Well, no one here can tell what Mary Colter will do. 
She is not queer, but then she looks at questions in such an 
odd light sometimes.” 

“Well, I warrant that she scorns Mr. Burton after 
this,” said one girl. 

“It will be strange if she doesn’t,” Fred said. 

The next morning the court room was packed as usual. 
Every one wanted to hear more of Burton’s testimony. 
He was recalled, as the prosecution wished him to clear 
up any misunderstanding that had arisen because of his 
testimony. The lawyers for the defense used every means 


220 


THE PATRIOT 


in their power to keep from reopening that point, but the 
judge decided otherwise. In Burton’s testimony the fol- 
lowing story and letter were brought out : 

“When my father,” answered Burton, “returned from 
his chase after his slave Jim, who had been drowned in 
Lake Erie, while he was trying to escape, accompanied by 
three Oberlin students, he was arrested for the murder of 
the lieutenant-governor. The evidence was all circum- 
stantial but of such a character that the jury felt justified 
in bringing in a verdict of guilty. There was consider- 
able political hatred in the whole trial, and I always 
thought that my father was the victim of a political in- 
trigue more than anything else. The Baxters found the 
lieutenant’s body and father always believed, and I did 
also, that the Baxters kept back some evidence that would 
have cleared him, even though Jim had not been brought 
back. But he was convicted and sent to the penitentiary 
and died in prison.” 

“But, Mr. Burton,” queried the lawyer, “you are a 
man only a little over half the age of the time since your 
father was convicted, and you are his son. How do you 
account for that ?” 

“I will explain as I go along,” said Burton quietly. 
“My father did all that he could and his friends a great 
deal more, to clear up the facts in the case. Since I have 
come to years of maturity I have tried, in many ways, to 
clear up the fair name of Burton, and until three days ago, 
when I received this letter, I thought that all my efforts 
had been in vain. 


THE PATRIOT 


221 


“Some years after father’s conviction there was elected 
a governor, who, while he was elected by the faction that 
was opposed to my father, and because of that dared not 
do anything to anger them, yet he felt that father had 
been convicted unjustly. He therefore gave him the 
privilege of living in the penitentiary but not under 
guard, and he was given a couple of rooms, where he 
could have his books and do writing. But the best of 
all was that the governor permitted my mother to live 
with father. In a way it was a vindication; in a way it 
was freedom. My father and mother lived this way for 
two years, and it was during that time that I was born. 
The year after my birth father died. Of course my 
mother was free to go now, as she had been held only by 
cords of love. She took me and went back to our old 
home, which was all we had left, as the war had taken 
everything else. That explains how I was an inmate of 
the penitentiary for a year. 

“This letter clears my father from guilt,” said Burton, 
as he held up a letter. “As I said, I have always tried to 
find out the inner history of the matter. Some six months 
ago, when an old friend of mine, Falke by name, was 
elected governor of Kentucky, I wrote him and begged 
that he would do all that was in his power to find out 
and uncover the secrets of my father’s disgrace. 

“Three days ago, thank God, I received the following 
letter. It reads as follows: 

“ ‘My Dear Rob : — Since receiving your letter some 
six months ago, which I acknowledged with a short 


222 


THE PATRIOT 


note, I have been diligently searching to find out the real 
reasons of your father's conviction. I rejoice that I have 
been able to clear up the matter completely. 

“ ‘Just a personal word, Rob, before I go on. As I 
learn of your efforts in behalf of law enforcement I am 
greatly pleased. I am making the fight of my life and 
of the state and nation I believe along these lines, and I 
am accomplishing things too. Of course I am pleased 
that it has brought me prominently to the front, and by 
many I am spoken of for the highest office in our land. 
But that is neither here nor there, for The Patriot, who 
loves his country first, forgets self and works for the 
good of all. But I must hasten with your affairs, which 
you are anxious to hear about. 

“ ‘You remember that the Baxters found the body of 
the murdered lieutenant-governor, and you also know 
that the Baxters were bitter enemies of your father. 
You know we always thought that something was kept 
back by them. I have found out what it was. Last 
week I learned that one of the Baxters, in fact the last 
one, was dangerously sick. I knew that in these last 
years he had become a convert to the Catholic faith. I 
went to him and impressed upon him that he could never 
get into heaven unless he went with a clear conscience, 
and that if he had any misdeed of the past that hadn’t 
been squared he had better tell me. He seemed to real- 
ize at once what I was driving at and said, “You refer 
to the conviction of Colonel Burton, don’t you?” 

“‘Yes,’ I said. ‘You know you fellows kept something 


THE P AT RIOT 


223 


back at that time. What was it? You are the last of the 
family and you are near death and nothing can harm you 
now, except leaving the world without making every- 
thing as straight as you can.’ 

“ ‘I believe you are right/ he said, and then after a 
moment’s silence, continued, ‘Well, we found a note in 
the lieutenant-governor’s hand on which he had scrawled, 
“I believe that I am going to die ; I have been fatally as- 
saulted by a big burly negro.” That was all, but we 
knew then that Colonel Burton did not commit the mur- 
der. The murderer was undoubtedly the negro Jim, 
who escaped, but who suffered death by drowning in 
Lake Erie. I wish now that I could give back to the 
Colonel his long-lost liberty. We look upon these old 
feuds differently, governor, when we are old and near 
the grave. All I can do now is to tell you the facts and 
you can do what you wish toward clearing the name of 
Burton from the heavy cloud that has hung over it these 
many years.” 

“ ‘So, my dear Rob, I take great pleasure in sending 
you this account and trust that you will now rest easier, 
since you will be free from the weight of shame that 
must have hung like a pall over you in the years gone by. 

“ ‘Believe me, ever your friend, 

“ ‘Joe Falke/ ” 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE SHUT DOOR. 

The pleas made by the lawyers were long and elo- 
quent. Dick Reiter’s was especially noted, not because 
of its logical conclusions, but because he singled out Bur- 
ton and heaped abuse of the worst kind upon him. He 
tried to hold him up to ridicule; he told the jury that he 
was prejudiced, that he had brooded over his wrongs 
so long that he no doubt believed that he was doing God’s 
will in testifying in such a way as to send one of the 
hated family into the same punishment as his father 
had received. 

At last the pleas were all made, the judge slowly and 
solemnly gave his charge to the jury, and they went to 
their room to deliberate on the evidence. It was noon of 
the sixth day of the trial when the jurymen went out. 
At ten o’clock the next morning they sent in word that 
they had reached a verdict. The news spread rapidly 
and soon the court room was crowded. 

When they came in the judge inquired if they had 
reached a verdict, and the foreman responded, “We 
have.” 

“What is it?” asked the judge. 


224 


THE PA TRIOT 


225 


“We find the prisoner guilty of murder.” A great 
sigh, almost a sob went up from the assembled people. 

The old judge then, with tears flowing down his 
cheeks, sentenced Charlie to be electrocuted, at or before 
ten o’clock A. M. December First. Ah, Charlie, a hor- 
rible ending for a life. You are but twenty-two, and 
must you go now, and in this way? How did it come 
about, Charlie? You sought the pleasure that is not 
lasting; you took the hated cup that steals away men’s 
brains and morals, and you were permitted to do it by 
your fellow men, who let you and others break the law 
with impunity. Yes, Charlie, your moments of unlawful 
pleasure brought to you and to others the direst calamity. 

The blow was a heavy one to fall upon the Colter’s, 
especially Mrs. Colter. She was the one who fainted the 
day that Burton was testifying. Mary, with her father’s 
assistance, had helped her out. Mrs. Colter did not 
rally from the shock as her physicians desired. When 
she received word that Charlie had been sentenced to be 
electrocuted she sank into a stupor, from which she 
roused only at long intervals. 

It was a very sad home coming to the Squire and 
Mary. They had Mrs. Colter upon a stretcher, while 
Charlie was taken away to the Auburn penitentiary to 
await his death on December first. 

The thing that kept Mary up and around was that 
she had so much to see to. She assumed the entire charge 
of her mother, but had help in the kitchen. Mrs. Colter 
was evidently growing weaker day by day. With her 


226 


THE PATRIOT 


care and other duties Mary had no time to grieve over 
the sorrow that had come to her. 

About a week after their return from the trial the 
Squire was over in Richton. As he was standing in 
front of the Post Office Burton went by and stopped and 
spoke to him, then offered to shake hands. The Squire, 
however, looked haughtily ahead and neither answered 
Burton’s greeting nor paid any attention to his out- 
stretched hand. 

The incident greatly angered the Squire and when 
he returned home he was crabbed and morbid. Nothing 
seemed to please him, for he found fault with everything. 
It was hard for Mary to bear, for she was overworked 
and her mother’s illness had unnerved her. She bore 
up patiently, however, and excused her father’s incon- 
siderate ways, because of his great sorrow. 

After the evening meal, when Mrs. Colter was rest- 
ing quietly, the Squire called Mary into the living room 
and said, “Daughter, I want to have a few words with 
you.” 

“Very well, father,” she answered. “I will return 
in a few moments. I want to attend to something in the 
kitchen first.” 

In a short time she returned, and looking at the 
Squire, said, “Now, pater, I am ready. What did you 
wish to say to me?” 

“Well, it is just this,” the Squire said almost roughly. 
“I met that minister Burton today over in Richton, and 


THE PA TRIOT 


227 


when he tried to speak to me I took absolutely no notice 
of him.” 

“0 father, you did not do that, did you ?” Mary asked 
in great agitation. 

“I certainly did,” continued the Squire. “It seems 
to me the effrontery of that chap is beyond endurance. 
The idea of his thinking that I would hold him on the 
same footing as before.” 

“Why not, father?” asked Mary with trembling lips. 

“Why not?” asked the Squire in thunderstruck tones. 
“Mary, are you daft? You ask why I do not receive the 
man on the same terms as before, when you know all we 
have suffered because of him. Do you expect to con- 
tinue on the same terms with him?” 

“That was my intention,” answered Mary firmly. 
“What has he done?” 

“Why, by his testimony he has sent your brother to 
prison to await his doom, and soon he will be strapped 
and helplessly bound in the deadly chair. Then he will 
stiffen in agonizing death under the terrible shock. We 
cannot have any more to do with this man Burton,” the 
Squire said, as he finished with a shudder. 

“You are mistaken, father,” answered Mary. “Mr. 
Burton did not send Charlie to his death, but as it was 
shown it was Charlie's own wilful action.” 

“He could have kept him out if he had done as I 
begged him to do upon my knees ; to think that I kneeled 
and begged this fellow for something and he spurned my 
request as if I had been a dog. I’ll never enter the 


228 


THE PA TRIOT 


church as long as he is pastor. I should think he would 
have sense enough to resign. He must be as thick- 
skinned as an ox or he would get out now.” 

“Father, all that I can see that Mr. Burton did was 
to tell the truth. You did not expect him to lie, did 
you ?” 

“Do you persist in defending the fellow, Mary? I 
tell you that you must give him up or you are no child 
of mine. Never with my consent shall you see or speak 
to him again. If he dares come here I will send him 
away so quickly that he will realize that something has 
happened.” 

“Father, as long as I stay under your roof,” Mary 
said with a sob breaking her voice, “I shall obey you. Of 
course I cannot leave now with mother in the condition 
she is. I must stay to care for her. But, father, you are 
wrong ; you are cruel ; you are wounding one of the pur- 
est and truest men in all the world. I cannot understand 
you. You may differ with Mr. Burton on many ques- 
tions, but why do you act this way?” 

“I am older than you are,” answered the Squire, “and 
I know better than you what is right. Mr. Burton has 
grievously wronged us and I shall use my influence to 
get a man with his cranky ideas out of here. And I want 
you to understand that you are to obey me and not trifle 
with my wishes.” 

“Father,” Mary said quietly, “as I said, I will do as 
you wish while I am, under your roof, and I will stay 
while mother needs me, but, sir, your wish is tyrannical 


THE PA TRIOT 


229 


and without reason and, although it breaks my heart, I 
will go as soon as I am free.” 

“Do not see him, do not speak to him, that is my 
wish,” said the Squire. 

“Very well, father,” she answered. 

“That is all,” he then said wearily, but without a sign 
of relenting. 

Mary hastened to her room. She had battled bravely, 
but she knew now that it was all over that she would 
have to cry. She threw herself upon her bed and the 
unbidden tears flowed unchecked. After a time she grew 
quiet and even began to hope for brighter days, when 
all would be cleared up. 

When Burton offered to shake hands with the Squire, 
he had not expected to be treated quite so rudely as he 
was. He thought that the Squire was conscientious 
and that when he sat down and calmly thought the mat- 
ter clear through that he would realize that the testimony 
could only be such as could be vouched for. Burton 
therefore kept away from the Squire’s for a week. He 
wanted him to have time to think the matter over. But 
when he came suddenly upon the Squire that day in front 
of the Post Office his heart was touched by the old man’s 
dejected looks, and he could not help but offer his hand 
and express his deep feelings. But he received nothing 
but the disastrous results already recorded. 

Burton was not entirely disheartened by the rebuff 
he had received. He believed that the Squire would yet 
see that a witness ought not to be treated any harsher 


230 


THE PA TRIOT 


for doing his dirty than the judge or prosecuting attor- 
ney. With hope still in his heart he decided he would 
call at the Squire’s the next evening, and see Mary, for 
he felt that he had a right to do so, as their engagement 
was unbroken. 

The next evening he started out to make the call he 
had decided on. His heart thumped and he was almost 
on the point of turning back two or three times, for he 
was very fearful of the outcome. But he was of the 
kind who, when they put their hands to the plow, do not 
turn back, so he plodded bravely on. 

All too soon he found himself at the gate looking up 
the old familiar path, which he had trod so many times, 
happy and joyous with Mary by his side. He wondered 
to himself if this was to be the last time. It was. He 
could see Mary as she passed and repassed the window 
attending to her mother. At last he could delay no 
longer and went and knocked. He hoped that Mary 
would come to the door, but she did not. The Squire 
answered the summons. He opened the door and peered 
out a moment, not seeing clearly at first who was there. 

Burton said, “Good evening, I have come over to call 
' and see how Mrs. Colter is and to see Mary.” 

“You dare come here,” thundered the Squire. “It 
passes belief, you, you, you !” he almost strangled in his 
wrath. “Go, go, go, and never darken my doors again ! 
Never come near me or any of mine ; you are hateful to 
us.” 


“But Mary,” faltered Burton. 


THE PA TRIOT 


231 


“Mary will not see you/’ shouted the Squire. Burton 
heard something then. He thought it was Mary saying, 
“O father, don’t; please, don’t,” but he was not sure. 
Then he found himself standing alone, once more, before 
the shut door. 

He now turned sadly homeward. He thought that if 
Mary had felt kindly toward him that she would have 
given some sign. If he had only known that she, the 
moment he was at the door, was holding in her arms her 
mother, who was just recovering from one of her worst 
sinking spells, he would have judged her less harshly. 

Burton plodded on home. He found little Helen up 
waiting for him. He clasped her in his arms, and as he 
carried her to tuck her in her little bed he murmured, 
“Little sweetheart, you are all that I have left now. You 
must love me, love me, and keep me strong.” 

“Helen will take care of Uncle Rob,” said Helen in 
her gentle voice, as she patted his cheek and then put 
her childish arms about his neck and gave him a good 
“nug,” as she called it. 


CHAPTER XXV. 
bill’s last fling at the world. 

“Bill Carter is in town,” Mrs. Menson said to us the 
next morning at the breakfast table. 

“Is that so?” Burton replied with considerable inter- 
est. “Have you seen him?” 

“No,” she answered, “but I was talking to Mrs. Field 
this morning and she said that Mr. Field saw him last 
evening. He said that Bill looks dreadful and that he 
is evidently drinking his life away as fast as he can. I 
do hope, Mr. Burton, that you will be careful. I am 
afraid that he is planning to murder you and then take 
his own life.” 

“O pshaw,” Burton replied. “You will make me so 
nervous that I can’t go about my duties. I am very busy 
just now. This trial has thrown me back with my read- 
ing, and I have a paper to prepare for the Association, 
that meets soon, and I would like to make it as good as I 
can, for this the first time that I have appeared before 
the brethren.” 

Burton found the news that Bill had returned was 
true. He saw him down street the same morning that he 
had heard about his return. Bill certainly did look as 
though he had been going the pace. He was hollow 
cheeked, and his eyes were bloodshot, and his hands 
trembled. It scarcely seemed possible that drink could 
have caused so great a change in a man in a few months. 


232 


THE PA TRIOT 


233 


Perhaps there was something else, for he evidently had 
something upon his mind that was troubling him, for he 
would make sudden starts when any one spoke to him, 
and he often glanced over his shoulder even in broad day 
and he had a skulking shuffling sort of a walk. 

After Bill had been in town two or three days he 
appeared to feel better. He brushed his clothes and made 
a neater toilet. He walked with his head a little higher 
and did not seem to be in such fear as he was at first. 

One day Bill met Mrs. Root on the sereet. Mrs. Root 
was Richton’s original Christian Scientist. She had 
become a convert some two years before and by diligent 
personal work, for that is the way they grow, she had 
increased their number to fifteen or eighteen members. 
They were in the habit of meeting every Thursday even- 
ing to read out of Mrs. Eddy's works and talk with each 
other about their prospect of increasing their member- 
ship. Mrs. Root always tried to be friendly towards 
Bill, and had often made an effort to have him think in 
the better way. Bill, however, had not been attracted 
toward Mrs. Root and in his heart cordially disliked her. 

It was Thursday morning that they met and she 
stopped him and began to talk. She said, “Mr. Carter, I 
see that you are back in Richton.” 

“O, I have never been away," Bill said with a twinkle 
in his eye. 

“How is that, Mr. Carter?" 

“Why, I have been here in thought all the time, and 
as man is only thought, why, I have been here." 


2 3 4 


THE PATRIOT 


“I see, Mr. Carter,” Mrs. Root said, taking him in 
earnest, “that you are getting the better thought of life. 
I hope that you will continue. Come up to our meeting 
tonight and we will think only good thoughts and then 
this dreadful habit of yours will be no more.” 

Bill in a flash decided that he would go, and as he 
said to himself, ‘Til have one good time before I die, 
anyway. I’ll make this old hypocrite and her followers 
sorry they invited me. I know enough about their system 
to expound it a little, I think.” Then he said aloud to 
Mrs. Root, “You’re right, madam, I have been thinking 
new thoughts, that all evil is merely imaginary.” Then 
to himself, “I wish I had an imaginary glass of whiskey 
for my imaginary stomach.” Then to Mrs. Root, “I’ve 
had such a strange experience the last few weeks that I 
want to tell you about it tonight.” 

“O, we shall be so glad to hear what you have to 
say,” she answered as they parted. 

Promptly at eight o’clock Bill was in Mrs. Root’s 
parlor with the other fifteen Scientists who had come 
out. A few selections were read from the Bible and then 
some from Science and Health. After this Mrs. Root said, 
“We have with us Mr. Carter, who has been giving the 
new thought great consideration of late and has some 
wonderful experience to relate.” 

Bill now arose and began in his most pleasing man- 
ner, for when he wished he could speak in a way to at- 
tract people. But one who knew him would have known 
that he was poking fun at these poor deluded people, but 


THE P AT RIOT 


2 35 


they drank it in in open-mouthed wonder, that is, at 
first. Bill said: '‘One night some six weeks ago I was 
sleeping in a cabin in a lonely gull at the head of the 
lake. Before retiring, as I stepped to the door to see 
what kind of a night it was, I beheld the stars in all their 
glory. As I stood and looked I was deeply impressed 
with the magnificent of it all, and then I began to think 
of man’s insignificance. When suddenly there came 
upon me, like a clap of thunder, the thought ‘Thou art 
created in the image of the Creator of all this grandeur.’ 
As that thought pressed home upon me I knew that I was 
God, and that God was I (Mrs. Root and the others 
exchanged glances of great approval). As this great 
truth dawned upon me I realized that if I but tried I 
could know all things past, present and future. I ap- 
plied myself and soon the whole history of the universe 
was laid before my mind. Mrs. Root, I saw you with a 
great following, and you had no mortal desire, for the 
only material thing that Scientists recognize, the al- 
mighty dollar, had satisfied them all.” Mrs. Root smiled. 
“Then I turned my eyes upon the Book that has come 
down to us through these centuries, and to my horror I 
saw that mortal mind had changed it from the original 
way it read, and had tinged it with mortal things. It 
was revealed to me that I was not to give the world a 
new book, like our great Mother, but that I was sent to 
make right the Book to which our Mother was given 
only the key. This will necessitate much labor on my 
part, but it will be a labor of love. I have not been able 


236 


THE PA TRIOT 


as yet to make the Bible over entirely into a Christian 
Scientist book, but only in a few places. I will give you 
a few extracts from the old and then read to you the 
new, the way it read originally, and you will understand 
from these what the new book is to be. I read to you, 
first, from Matthew, chapter eight, the first four verses. 
It reads in the old version as follows, 'When he was 
come down from the mountain great multitudes followed 
him. And behold, there came a leper and worshiped 
him saying, Lord, if thou wilt, thou can’st make me clean. 
And Jesus put forth his hand and touched him, saying, 
I will, be thou clean. And immediately his leprosy was 
cleansed. And Jesus said, see thou tell no man, but go 
thy way and show thyself to the priest, and offer the 
gifts that Moses commanded for a testimony unto them/ 
That is the way mortal mind thought it should read, but 
in these later days, since the coming of our Mother, and 
since my vision, we know that it should read as follows : 
‘When he was come down from the mountain great mul- 
titudes followed him, and behold there came one who 
thought he was a leper and worshiped him, saying, Lord, 
if thou wilt, thou can’st make me clean. And Jesus put 
forth his hand and touched him for five talents, saying, I 
will, be thou clean, and immediately his imaginary lep- 
rosy was cleansed. And Jesus saith unto him, See thou 
tellest every man thou meetest, and be sure and have 
your cure published in the Christian Science Journal. Go 
thy way and show thyself to the priests, and offer a gift, 
let it be money, to every Christian Scientist you meet, 


THE PA TRIOT 


237 


as a testimony unto them/ That is one change that I 
have found necessary to make in this vision of mine.” 

Mrs. Root and her followers had grown a little rest- 
less and suspicious, for Bill could not help but let a tinge 
of irony creep into his tone. He continued, “I will give 
you another illustration how the old book is to be made 
new. It is found in Mark, eighth chapter, beginning at 
the twenty-second verse, 'And he cometh to Bethesda 
and they bring a blind man unto him, and besought him 
to touch him, and he took the blind man by the hand and 
led him out of the town, and when he had spit on his 
eyes, and put his hands upon him, he asked him if he 
saw aught, and he looked and said, I see men as trees 
walking. After that he put his hand again upon his eyes 
and made him look up and he was restored, and saw 
every man clearly. And he sent him away to his house, 
saying, Neither go into the town nor tell it to any one in 
the town/ The new translation is as follows : 'And he 
cometh to Bethsaida and they bring a man unto him 
who was afflicted with a foolish idea that he was blind 
and besought him to touch him, and he took the man who 
supposed he was blind by the hand and led him to the 
center of the town and then shouted until he had a 
goodly crowd, and then he said, behold what a great work 
I am about to perform. And when he had spit on his 
eyes and put his hands upon them, he asked him if he 
saw aught, and he looked up and said I see men as trees 
walking, or who think that they are walking. After that 
he put his hands again upon his eyes and made him look 


238 


THE PATRIOT 


up ; and he was restored and saw every man clearly. And 
he sent the man forth. Go into the town and knock at 
every door and proclaim this great work that the Chris- 
tian Scientists has wrought upon you. Be sure to tell 
it to every man you meet, for publicity is the great and 
crying need of this new doctrine.’ You can see the great 
benefit my translation will be to the world. We all know 
that the cardinal principle of our new doctrine is to pro- 
claim afar and near the least of our deeds of healing. 
Therefore, if you have this new, up-to-date scripture, 
you can cry aloud your every success and show how the 
first Christian Scientist did likewise. Then we know 
that there is one material thing and that is the dollar. If 
our new translation shows how Christ first demanded 
the shekels then we can go forth and gather them in 
even more abundantly than before.” 

But Mrs. Root and her little band were sure now that 
Bill was making sport of them, and they rose up in a 
body, not think bad thoughts, of course not, but exe- 
cuting strenuous deeds, and Bill was cast into outer 
darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth, 
where there is disease, worldly thoughts and worldly 
deeds, and there Bill felt more at home. 

This was the last chance that Bill had to vent his 
cynical, sarcastic spirit. That night he had the reaction 
and got on a drunk, and he was probably never sober 
again. His body was too saturated with the evil drug for 
him to ever think that it was a mere thought that op- 
pressed him. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

ANGRY PREACHERS. 


Burton was very busy the week that Bill returned, as 
he was preparing a paper for the Association of the 
churches of his denomination. Burton was what we call 
liberal in his theology. He did not have much use for old 
ideas, creeds and customs, simply because they were old. 
If he could find any good in them he used it, but if it 
could not be worked into present-day life he discarded 
it without a bit of fear. 

The meeting of the Association came in the early part 
of October. Everything went off smoothly until near 
the end of the last day, when Burton presented his paper. 
He said, “I have chosen for my subject 

THE CATECHETICAL FAD. 

“There is a certain old tower that is well kno~wn by 
name to the world. The children of the past discussed 
it in the flickering light of the fireplace, and to the chil- 
dren of the present it is no less a wonder, even though 
they speak of it in the glare of the electric light of mod- 
ern science. This tower that is so well known and so 
famous is a leaning tower. With all our familiarity, 
however, with this leaning tower of Pisa, I do not be- 
lieve that our knowledge is such that we could tell which 
way it leans. We do not know whether it leans forward, 
to either side, or backwards. 


239 


240 


THE PA TRIOT 


“I suppose that the young men who occupy the pul- 
pits of our land, if they are healthy, have a laudable 
ambition to become famous, and as we study the pulpit 
history of the last few years, we notice some young 
men who have become local celebrities, if not world-wide 
famous. They have accomplished this in various ways. 
As we look at a certain few, and as our vision clarifies 
and facts and fancies fall into their rightful places, we 
see that their celebrity is due to the same reason as Pisa’s 
— it is caused by a leaning. But their leaning can be 
more definitely defined. It is not a bending forward to 
catch some ideal. It is not a leaning to the side to catch 
some inkling of present worldly success, but it is a lean- 
ing back, back to the years that have their measure of 
success, but whose foundations are not proven for the 
present, and all fame built thereon is like Pisa’s tower 
only in the leaning, and not like it in its ability to stand 
for years to come. 

“This fame has been gained by young men who have 
been students of history. But, beware, he who begins 
the study of history is at the parting of the ways. If he 
takes his history under his arm, and uses it for a crutch 
he is very foolish. He cripples himself and, sad to re- 
late, goes forth to make other cripples. But he who puts 
his history under his feet has a stepping stone and is in 
a position to grasp some ideal, and he is a genius. 

“The catechism has been pursued, captured and 
tucked under the arms of many, and they now go crip- 
pling about, supposing that they have taken a long step 


THE PA TRIOT 


241 


forward, when in truth they are back in the middle ages. 
Let us rather put it under our feet, and then with our 
new conceptions grasp our ideal. We want no skeletons 
from the past. We want life, and life is found only in 
the present and in the future. 

“The word catecheo is used in the New Testament 
by only two writers, Luke and Paul. When we under- 
stand that its original meaning is ‘an echoing back’ it 
ought to make all protestants keep a long way from it. 
We want no echoes in our rank. 

“Luke wrote his treatises for the strengthening of the 
faith of one Theophilus. We would judge from the 
classic style of Luke’s writing that his catechumen, The- 
ophilus, was no child. We would further conclude from 
those that are mentioned who came into the early church, 
that the catechetical classes were largely made up from 
grown people, whose reasoning powers were fully de- 
veloped. The catechism in the awful conflict in the dying 
Roman Empire between righteousness and sin was used. 
Here again it was used to confirm the faith and help give 
a belief to fully grown disciples coming from pagan 
religions. Luther had his fully grown disciples breaking 
away from the church of Rome, to whom he taught his 
questions and answers. 

The catechism may be all right for men and women, 
but there is a real danger in it when we question and 
answer for children. Look at the churches that had and 
have the catechism. When they ceased to have older 
converts breaking away from some cruder faith to deal 


242 


THE PA TRIOT 


with, they soon raise up church members who have no 
idea that religion is a thing for every-day life. Look 
at those who bear the name of great reformers. Their 
religion today is as much separated from life as is that 
of the church which he combated so valiantly. The rea- 
son is that now they save their members in youth by use 
of the catechism. Look at the awful indifference that 
got among the immediate descendants of the worthy 
Pilgrims and Puritans. Because they had drilled into 
them the excellent questions and answers that were good, 
but 'good only for their fathers, when they were breaking 
away from another sect, and were fully grown and 
had reasoning powers fully developed. It took the great 
awakening to cure the evil. 

“Now young men and old men want us to give to our 
children catechisms of theirs which are largely reprints 
of ancient catechisms. They are all alike in that they are 
limited by their one answer. They are fit only for fully 
grown men and women. If we use any of these cate- 
chisms in our churches, a prophecy that has the example 
of 'the past to confirm it is this, that in the next genera- 
tion religion will be separated from life in our protest- 
ant churches. 

“Now, let us look for a moment at a few of the ques- 
tions and answers of one of these modern celebrity-given 
catechisms. 

“Question I. What is the Bible? 

“Answer. It is the record of what God has said and 
done. 


THE PA TRIOT 


243 


“That looks all right, but it is not. 'A class of men 
and women might handle it properly, but children never. 
It confines the child’s God between the lids of the Book 
of Books, which *will never do, although the book is a 
precious book. The child, so taught, will never hear 
the music of God’s angels, as he listens to the songs of 
the birds. He will never glory in God’s handiwork as 
he looks at the painted leaves of the forest. He will 
never hear God speaking to him in the grandeur of the 
storm, nor* in the roar of the ocean’s waves.” 

“Question 2. By whom was it written? 

“Answer. By holy men inspired of God. 

“I would not be surprised if the catechetical writer 
somewhere in his book attributes some of the books of 
the Bible to Solomon, and then as his catechetical chil- 
dren grow up and learn some of the things that Solomon 
did they may be more than anxious to imitate 'this holy 
inspired man of the past. 

“Question 3. How many books in the Old Testa- 
ment? 

“Answer. Thirty-nine. 

“If this catechetical ‘fad succeds, I can imagine a con- 
versation between myself and a child of mine a few years 
hence, something like this, Tapa, I learned something 
new and helpful today at my catechetical class. 

“ What was it, my child ?’” 

“ Tapa, I learned that there are thirty-nine books 
in the Old Testament/ 


244 


THE PA TRIOT 


“ 'O, shade of Theophilus, what heresy is this that 
thou art getting into thy head. Some one must have 
thirty-nine stripes for this/ 

“If these answers are not checked we will have a few 
generations hence a new sect whose paramount issue 
will be : There are thirty-nine in the Old and twenty-seven 
in the New, and he who says otherwise let him be ac- 
cursed/ The catechism,” continued Burton, as a few of 
his congregation smiled, but the old ministers looked 
darkly about, “as we are attempting to use it with the 
children is all wrong. It is giving cut and dried ques- 
tions and answers to those who lack the reasoning powers 
to discriminate, and it will surely dry up that which they 
have, imagination, heart, love, the divine that is in them. 
It is trying to put a man-made God into a heart that is 
already filled to overflowing with God’s spirit. 

“Wordsworth, even though we may object to some 
of his conclusions, gives us an inkling of the truth in his 
lines : 

“ 'Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting, 

The soul that rises with us our life’s star 
Hath had elsewhere its setting 
And cometh from afar; 

Not in entire forgetfulness 
And not in utter nakedness, 

But trailing clouds of glory, do we come 
From God, who is our home. 

Heaven lies about us in our infancy!’ 


THE P AT RIOT 


245 


“Wordsworth is right, brethren. Let us get God 
revealed to us, from our children, instead of trying to 
put into them our common, everyday conception of him. 

“Brethren, I have not spoken very favorably of the 
catechism, which I realize that many of you love dearly. 
What would I have, you ask ? He who tries to be an 
image-breaker and succeeds, in his own opinion, if not 
in the opinion of others, should present an idol or an 
ideal to receive the strenuous blows of the brethren. Let 
us have something like this. 

“We must look forward to a time when we can have 
a recreation day every week, and that day will not be 
Sunday. I hope to see the time when Sunday will be as 
important, and in one sense more important, school day 
than any other in the week. The Sunday School will be 
held as now in the church Sunday School room. There 
will be a First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth and Sixth 
Readers. 

“In the First Reader we will find many beautiful 
stories taken from, the Bible, given in simple language 
that children can understand and appreciate. One of 
these stories will be about the boy Samuel. It will tell 
about the time when he was lying down in the night, 
thinking the imaginative thoughts that children think, 
and then he heard the voice of the Lord speaking to him 
and soon he ran to the old man Eli with his message. 
When the children have read this, a wise teacher will 
ask them an up-to-date catechetical question but will 
give no answer. The question will be, ‘Did any of you 


246 


THE PA TRIOT 


children ever hear the voice of the Lord speaking to you 
as you have lain awake some night?’ Then many hands 
will go up and we will have new records of the revela- 
tion of the Lord. 

“In the Fourth Reader will be boys from twelve to 
fourteen years. They will have such great characters as 
Moses, and Joshua, and David, and others to read about. 
And my greatest hope is that some day I will find two 
boys some Sunday afternoon out behind the church 
fighting, one upholding the honors of Moses and the 
other fighting for David or some other hero. Such 
ought to be the modern catechism.” 

If Burton had dropped a bomb into their midst he 
could not have created greater consternation. His 
paper was up for discussion. Not only the paper but 
Burton received a good share of the word drubbing 
that followed. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

UPON THE WILD NIGHT A WILDER CRY. 

The beginning of the end was at hand. On the 
night of October seventeenth a cold, drizzling rain was 
falling on the old houses and ill lighted streets of Rich- 
ton. It was mostly a steady down-pour, but as it grew 
later the wind came up, and then often the fitful gusts 
would drive the rain against the windows in angry 
splashes. Whenever this happened those who had not 
retired drew near their roaring fires and sighed grate- 
fully, as they thanked fortune that it was not their lot 
to be out in the storm. 

From one house that stood near the street a bright 
light was shining, through a half-closed shutter. In the 
path of the band of light was revealed and photographed 
on the black night, the draggled leaves of a drenched 
tree, part of an old paling fence, a child’s express wagon, 
with a broken tongue that had been mended clumsily, 
a pool of muddy water that stood in the well worn path 
that led from the gate to the house, and, for a moment, 
then it was gone, the white, anxious face of a woman 
who had wondrous large dark eyes. 

Within the brightly lighted room a man sat near the 
brightly sparkling fire in the grate. At intervals he 
looked thoughtfully into the leaping flames, often he 

247 


248 


THE PA TRIOT 


would stretch out a hand to its grateful warmth, but 
most of the time he was deeply interested in the book 
which he was reading. Once, when the book claimed 
his undivided attention, and just after the woman’s face 
had appeared, there came a faint knock at the door. It 
was not heard by him or else it was unheeded. It 
began again and continued very low but insistent. Sud- 
denly Burton, for the man was he, raised his head and 
listened, then he jumped up and went to the door and 
threw it wide open, as he said, “Come in.” But as he 
stood and peered out into the darkness the only answer 
he received to his cordial summons was the driving rain 
that beat into his face. He was just closing the door, 
thinking that he had been mistaken, for the hour was 
late, when a dirty letter was thrust out of the shadow 
into his hand, which rested on the side of the door. Then 
there were hasty, light footsteps, and the bearer of the 
note was gone unseen and unknown. 

Burton now closed the door and went and sat down 
again by the fire. He opened the letter and read its 
contents. Then he laid it upon his knee and began 
to think. As he pondered there came upon the wild night 
a wilder cry, “Hurry, hurry, hurry!” 

Burton sprang to his feet, and listened intently, but 
no further sound came except the swish of the rain. He 
murmured, “That could not have been Mary’s voice.” 
Again he read the letter hastily, and this time his de- 
cision was formed, for he took off his slippers, then put 
on heavy shoes and a rain coat. Grabbing an old hat 


THE PATRIOT 


249 


he went out into the storm. As he closed the door he 
muttered, “ Perhaps it is another decoy.” 

The letter read as follows: 

“Mr. Burton. — Dear Sir: — Come at once to Colter’s 
old barn by the deep ravine. By coming you will com- 
fort a dying, hopeless man, and hear something that will 
bring gladness to one you love. I am your worst enemy, 
but come, for this is no fake. Bill Carter.” 

It is a half-hour since Burton left his home. It still 
storms. The tear-laden clouds cannot be seen, but are 
so low and heavy that they can almost be felt. A mile 
from the village stands Colter’s old barn. It is near a 
rugged hill and by the side of a deep ravine, through 
which now rushes a sullen stream growling angrily. 
The darkness is so deep that the black outlines of the 
barn are scarcely visible. A faint light glimmers and 
flickers inside the old shell, and within are heard moans, 
now and then, and muttered oaths, or are they prayers? 
In a corner a man is lying, who is ragged and unshaven. 
To the phrenologist his high forehead indicates intelli- 
gence, his small chin weakness. His large eyes are un- 
naturally bright and roam restlessly about. He raises 
himself upon one elbow and listens. The lighted lantern 
reveals his pallid bloated face, his trembling hands and 
unkempt ways. He is Bill Carter. He is sober ; he looks 
sick, or is he shamming? 

As Bill listens he hears quick footsteps. He leans 
over and peers through a small opening and sees dimly a 
man approaching, and then he falls back and clutches 


2 5 ° 


THE PATRIOT 


at something hidden under his tattered coat. The man 
whom Bill saw was Burton, and he now pushed open 
the old rickety door, then paused a moment and looked 
in. Then he stepped quickly inside and was in the pres- 
ence of his worst enemy, Bill Carter. He saw at a glance 
that Bill was indeed very sick, and immediately went 
over to him and grasped his hand and said : “How de do, 
Bill? Is there anything that I can do for you?” 

“Not very much,” growled Bill, “but sit down, for 
I have considerable to tell you and it will take some time 
for I am pretty weak.” 

After a few moments' silence Bill continued: “I'm 
going to die. I've been a tough customer in my day, 
and your efforts to win me to something better have 
failed, but you have made an impression on me or I never 
would tell you what I am going to tell you, even though 
I know that I only have a few hours to live. .For this 
confession that I am going to make to you I want you 
to promise to carry out some particulars in regard to 
my burial and things that come after.” 

“All right, Bill, if it is anything that I can do, I will 
gladly carry it out,” Burton answered. 

“To the letter?” asked Bill. 

“Yes, to the letter,” Burton promised; 'that is, if it 
is possible to do so without compromising people or 
principle.” 

“I suppose you received my letter or you would not 
be here,” asked Bill. 


THE PA TRIOT 


251 

“Yes, some one handed it in the door. I didn’t see 
who it was,” answered Burton. 

“It was probably Mary Colter. I gave it to her and 
told her to see to it that it was delivered, for it concerned 
Charlie’s welfare,” answered Bill. 

“Then it was Mary,” Burton said anxiously. “Out in 
this terrible storm and darkness. Poor girl, she must 
have had some pressing reason.” Then turning sudden- 
ly to Bill he said: “You said something about Charlie. 
What is it?” 

“I’ll tell you in a moment,” answered Bill wearily. 
He lay quiet for a time with his eyes shut, and then said : 
“Mr. Burton, I had a good father and mother, but so 
many of us miserable scamps can say that, that it is no 
distinction. But I had three uncles and a grandfather 
that were drinking men. Some say because of that I in- 
herited my taste for liquor. Let me tell you that all such 
talk is nonsense. No man inherits an appetite for whis- 
key any more than he does for cucumbers. If it is so, 
why is it the boys in a family get this appetite and not 
the girls? Of course a man may inherit some constitu- 
tional weakness from his ancestors. There may be gen- 
eral desires, but not for any particular thing. For each 
temptation one is given strength enough to resist at the 
first. If this is not true there will be no justness in God. 
I never wanted to resist. If I am a little lengthy you 
must excuse me. This is my first attempt at preaching 
for a long time,” said Bill with a little of his old sarcastic 
smile. 


252 


THE PA TRIOT 


“Go on, Bill, it will do you good to talk,” Burton said 
kindly. 

“Well,” said Bill, “these uncles and grandfather 
should have been a warning to me to keep away from 
such company, but I didn’t do it. I kept going among 
young men who took a drink now and then. Of course I 
had to take some to be social, as they said. 

“When I was about twenty-five I did brace up for a 
while, because there was a girl I wanted to marry, and 
I knew that she wouldn’t marry a drinking man. She 
finally married me, but she made a great mistake. Women 
cannot reform men by marrying them. She was the 
sweetest woman on earth, but I was a drunken brute, and 
at last pushed her on the stove when her clothes caught 
fire. Yes, her death lies at my door. God pity me. 

“Perhaps you know, Mr. Burton, that I went to col- 
lege and that I have a fine education, but God pity me, 
for the last fifteen years I have been more or less a 
drunkard, and now I am proud to be known as Richton’s 
village drunkard.” 

Bill was now getting very much excited. His eyes 
were shining with feverish lustre; his hands had ceased 
to tremble, and he had risen to his feet and stood in 
front of Burton. Outside the night was wild, the wind 
moaned, the trees lashed their branches against the side 
of the barn, which creaked upon its foundations, while 
the water in the ravine rushed by in a tumult. As Bill 
gave his last speech, Burton felt that the raging night 
was a fitting one. With a great longing in his eyes and 


THE PATRIOT 


2 53 


deep anguish in his voice Bill cried out: “You know a 
man never becomes a drunkard the first night, hardly 
ever the first year. I went it quite gradually. At first 
I would get on sprees about once a month. I could have 
gone longer if I had kept out of the company that I kept. 
Many men and boys say ‘ I can’t help doing this or that 
wrong/ but they could if they would only keep out of a 
certain company. If a man wants to stop drinking he 
had better stay away from the rowdy element. 

“At last, Mr Burton, as true as the sun shines, there 
came a time when I couldn’t help drinking if I could only 
get hold of it. Do you see this bottle of whiskey? Well, 
I am going to drink it by and by and die drunk, for I 
know I am near death. Can’t I help drinking it, you 
ask? No, there is a demon at my throat that calls it and 
I cannot stop. 

“It has stolen my conscience ; it made me take you to 
that cave where I left you to die. Yes, I was the one. 
You escaped, not because I wanted you to; so I am just 
as guilty of your death as if you were really dead, for 
I thought I was killing you when I struck Deacon Reid 
that fatal blow.” 

“What?” shouted Burton. 

“Yes, I am the one who is guilty and not Charlie Col- 
ter.” 

“How can you prove it, Bill,” pleaded Burton. 

“You will be told how in the papers I will 'give you. 
There are certain fellows that know it who were with 
Charlie when the deed was done.” 


254 


THE PATRIOT 


Then in a voice as wild as the night he screamed, “Yes, 
this cursed whiskey did it all ; see it, see it !” and Bill held 
the bottle up and glared at it. “It has taken away my 
money; yes, I know, but I am going to drink it. It has 
robbed me of my manhood, yes, I know, but I am going 
to drink it. My old disappointed gray-haired mother 
died a few months ago, and her last request was that I 
stop drinking. Yes, I know, but I am going to drink it. 
It made me commit murder ; yes, I know, but I am going 
to drink it. I went home at times and as my little curly- 
headed Helen, with her blue eyes, saw me coming, she 
ran away in disgust and fear ; yes, I know, but I am 
going to drink it. Many a time I have seen my wife so 
true, so loyal, shed tears of agonizing sorrow over the 
brute she called husband; yes, I know, but I am going 
to drink it. Often she has cried to me in heart-broken 
accents, ‘Don’t, don’t, don’t hurt me so !’ yes, I know, but 
I am going to drink it. God says to me, ‘Be a man, con- 
trol yourself, or ye cannot enter the kingdom of God’; 
yes, I know, but the most awful hell ever pictured can- 
not stop me, for I am going to drink it and die drunk. 
Yes, I love the damnable stuff more than money, more 
than wife or baby, more than honor or manhood, more 
than heaven or God. Ah, yes, at last it biteth like a ser- 
pent and stingeth like an adder.” 

As Bill finished he sat down on the hay exhausted, 
breathing hard and rapidly. He still held on to his bottle 
of whiskey. After a moment he reached into the inside 
pocket of his ragged coat and drew out a roll of papers. 


THE PATRIOT 


255 


This he tossed toward Burton and said: “You have been 
a good friend to me, although I have been your worst 
enemy. You are taking care of my little girl Helen, for 
which in this last hour of my life I thank you. I give 
you there in that roll of papers evidence that will clear 
Charlie Colter. My last request which you have prom- 
ised to carry out is also there. You are not to read it 
until you know that I am dead. I would like to have 
you carry out the directions in that to the letter. I have 
been staggering up and down these streets for years. 
The boys and older people have laughed at me, thinking 
it funny, and have taken no warning. Now, if I could 
not or did not do any good in my life, why, I want to do 
a little by my burial. Good night ; here goes, not only to 
death here, but to death for eternity,” and Bill took a 
large swallow of his liquor. 

Burton then made Bill as comfortable as he could. 
He asked him if there was not some message that he 
would like to send to Helen, but he received no answer. 
He stayed a few moments longer, and Bill again and 
again drank out of the bottle. He was soon in a drunken 
stupor. Burton could do no more, so he said, “Good 
night, and may God have mercy on you.” Then he blew 
out the light and once more passed out into the storm. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

THE MIDNIGHT FUNERAL. 

The next morning when Burton looked out of the 
window he saw that the storm of the night before had 
passed. The sun was just breaking over the eastern 
hills, and the valley was flooded with the warm rays of 
a perfect October day. 

When Burton had finished his breakfast he started 
to the Post Office to get his mail. As he was on his 
way he saw two boys come running across the bridge 
that spanned the outlet of the lake. They called to him 
and to some others standing near. When they came up 
and had regained their breath sufficiently to speak the 
older one said excitedly, “Harry and I had to go over 
to Squire Colter’s old barn this morning to get some hay, 
that father had bought from him. When we reached 
there and went inside we found a man lying on the hay. 
I supposed that he was some tramp that had gone in out 
of the storm, and so I called to him to wake up and pay 
for his lodging. When he made no move I went over to 
look more closely at him and he is Bill Carter, and he is 
dead. I watched a long time and I couldn’t see him 
breathe.” 

“Boys,” said Burton, “you had better go and report 
the fact to some officer and have a professional report 
about the matter.” 


256 


THE PATRIOT 


257 


The boys went to the proper officials and soon they 
were ready to go and look into the matter. When the 
coroner and some others went over they found it was 
indeed true that Bill Carter lay there dead. The doctors 
made an examination and looked at the empty bottles by 
his side, then they said that there was no doubt but that 
he had died from general collapse, while he was drunk. 
Burton then told of his interview of the night before, and 
said that Bill had given him a roll of papers in which he 
had given directions for his burial. “I will go home and 
read what he has said and then report what I am to do 
in the matter.” 

After half an hour he returned. They all saw that he 
was greatly disturbed as he said, “I find the requests that 
Bill has made are of such a peculiar and startling nature 
that I am almost at a loss to know what to do. But as I 
promised Bill to carry out his requests, and as there is 
nothing but what can be done, I will do so. I wish, 
Fred,” said he, turning to Fred Seton, “that you would 
go over to Squire Colter's and tell them that if the things 
are true that he states in his papers given to me, that in 
a short time we will be able to prove Charlie innocent. 
Bill claims to have been the murderer and names some 
men who when found will testify to the fact. It will not 
hurt them to get a little hope any way, for I feel sure 
that what Bill has said is true.” 

Fred turned and drove away rapidly toward Colter's, 
and soon that household was all in a flutter with the great 
hope. 


258 


THE PATRIOT 


After Fred had gone some one in the crowd asked 
Burton when was Bill to be buried. 

“He will be buried inside of forty-eight hours under 
peculiar circumstances,” answered Burton; “that is all 
I am permitted to say.” 

It was then the eighteenth of October and about half 
past eight in the morning. Bill would have to be buried 
before half past eight on October twentieth. The crowd 
concluded that the funeral would be the next afternoon, 
on the nineteenth. 

The morning of the nineteenth dawns upon Richton. 
It is now twenty-four hours since the body of Bill Carter 
was found. The day is bright with sunshine but the air 
is cold and crisp. Some old men are standing over on 
the corner telling what kind of a day it was thirty-eight 
years ago, when Bill Carter was a little lad running about 
the streets. Now one is predicting for the night the 
heaviest frost of the season. The people were up early 
this morning for they believe that this is the day for the 
funeral about which there had been so much comment. 
But no one seems to know anything definite about it. All 
are unusually silent, but underneath their seeming calm- 
ness, there is a suppressed excitement. 

They do not look for the burial in the forenoon, but 
after the clock has struck twelve and the people have 
had dinner, women peeped from behind curtains, while 
some came out pretending they want to sweep off the 
steps. They sweep a little, but it is mostly pauses, as 
they look up and down the street. The men do not seem 


THE PA TRIOT 


259 


to have much to do, and many have come in from the 
country and are gathered in groups upon the street cor- 
ners. Many of Bill’s old boon companions are lounging 
carelessly about the stores. Everybody, although little is 
said, is looking for some sign of the funeral. 

The afternoon drags quietly on, and at last it is late 
and the men hurry home to hastily prepared suppers. The 
sun sets, the evening chores are all done, still the people 
listen and look. The stars begin to appear one by one, 
still there is awful stillness and no solemn cortege moves 
toward the church. The hours creep silently by, the 
clocks toll out nine, ten, eleven. The people are nervous 
and do not go to bed, the cracking of a twig seems like 
a pistol shot and the barking of a dog is a desecration. 
At last the stars indicate that the time is near midnight. 

Now all is quiet in the village streets, the dogs lie 
shivering in their kennels, there are no lights in the 
houses, but the inmates are up. Suddenly the church 
bell clangs out a startling toll, then through the silent 
town echoes the measured tread of horses and men. The 
grinding of the wheels of the black hearse, upon the grav- 
eled road, breaks harshly upon the frosty night air. Se- 
dately, silently, solemnly, moves the procession toward 
the church. The iron tongue of the bell speaks on its 
awful message of death. Women shiver, brave men 
tremble, boys cover up their heads in fright, who tomor- 
row will be jaunty and brave as they try to laugh off 
the gruesome scenes of the night. 


26 o 


THE P AT RIOT 


The sombre black wagon with its burden of death 
stops before the church door. In a few moments the 
streets are full of people who come from their houses and 
from other places, where they have been awaiting the 
funeral. The coffin is not taken inside, but Burton now 
stands upon the church steps as he speaks. As he begins 
people shudder with the cold night air and with appre- 
hension. He says, “William Carter, you brought dark- 
ness into the world by your life, it is therefore fitting that 
you should be buried at night. You made it dark for 
your child whom you should have cherished as a gift 
from above; your wife looked out upon a black world 
because her eyes were blinded by tears which you caused ; 
your old mother suffered death a thousand times because 
of you; you blackened the life of your father with sor- 
row. You gave up the highest kind of life that you 
might have for a moment what you called a good 
time. It was your privilege to have become a man, you 
became worse than a beast. You could have been God’s 
son, you chose to be a drunkard. And unlike the man 
who sold all his possessions to go and buy the pearl of 
great price, you sold your possessions and even the pearl 
of great price, eternal life, for a glass of vile liquor. Esau 
sold his birthright for a mess of pottage, you sold yours 
for less. Judas was a traitor to the Son of God, for 
thirty pieces of silver, you were a traitor to your self and 
to God, for just one drink more. Eternal life was to be 
your inheritance, you threw it away for a few years’ 
senseless debauchery.” 


2 HE PA TRIOT 


261 


The hearse turns and starts for the cemetery, the peo- 
ple silently follow. Clouds have gathered over the sky 
and the darkness is intensified. The coffin is lowered 
into the grave, now the clods tumble noisily upon the box, 
and as no prayer is offered, a deep groan goes up from 
the assembled people. When the grave is filled and the 
people are about to turn shiveringly homeward, Burton’s 
voice once more, out of the darkness, breaks clearly upon 
the night air: “William Carter desired this kind of a 
burial and has left this to be placed upon his headstone : 

THE EPITAPH. 

“ ‘Bill, the village drunkard, under this stone 
Lies here to sleep forever and ever alone. 

No joy, no hope, no heaven his can ever be, 

For a slave to drink, gives up a happy eternity. 

For does not the Book say, whoever has such a sin, 
Into the Kingdom of God can never enter in? 

One last word, I speak, sober, quiet and true, 

Be men, not drunkards, boys, whatever you do. 

Thus I cry to the world, from under the sod. 

Seek life, seek life, eternal life, the gift of our God.’ ” 
This epitaph has been carved upon a stone that has 
been erected over Bill’s last resting place. As one stands 
by it and reads, and then looks out over the ' beautiful 
valley and shimmering lake, he cannot help but be im- 
pressed, as Bill intended, with the seriousness of life. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE NEXT MORNING. 


The people of Richton went home from the cemetery 
greatly impressed with the real meaning of life. If they 
had been left to think over the incident, there would 
probably have been a different outcome in the subse- 
quent history. But early the next morning there came a 
happening that changed the course of their thinking, and 
no doubt in this way changed the course of events that 
followed. That is the way with life, one moment on the 
hill top, the next in the valley. Now the sun shines, 
soon it is covered with a cloud. The bird often sings its 
sweetest song while perched upon the dead branch of a 
tree. The gaudy butterfly springs to caress the warm 
breeze with his happy wings, from the leaden dead body 
of the cocoon ; and the prettiest flowers always grow upon 
the heaved mounds of our loved ones whom we so sadly 
mourn. One, if he is not too deeply stricken, can 
almost always see something at a funeral that provokes a 
smile. Perhaps the “Irish wake” is after all a demand 
of nature that must be fulfilled. Because the people of 
Richton were sad and impressed at midnight, the next 
morning, at break of day, they were ready to laugh all 
the louder at the antics of one of their citizens. 

Richton is a village of one long street and most of 
the residences are built upon that street. At the lower 

262 


THE PA TRIOT 


263 


end, for it is a long gradual rise, are a few stores, the 
Post Office, the mill, with the creek near by, and just 
across the creek Deacon Hawkins lives, with his few 
acres of ground and keeps a few cattle. Among the 
deacon’s cattle was one large steer that was a persistent 
fence jumper. The deacon had been told by a number 
of the people that his steer was a great nuisance, continu- 
ally getting into gardens and making havoc of every- 
thing. But the deacon, in his stinginess, as persistently 
ignored these comments, as his steer did the fences. 

At the upper end of the street lived Si Hawkins, a 
cousin of the deacon’s. As is too often the case these 
two relatives were not on the best of terms. It began 
with some little thing that had grown through the years 
until now they scarcely ever spoke to each other. Si had 
that summer a very choice garden, and once or twice the 
deacon’s steer had gotten into it and destroyed a great 
many vegetables. But it was now late in the season and 
all that was left were some choice cabbages. Si had 
taken extra care of these and expected to get a fancy 
price for them. 

The night of the funeral Si had been out and when 
he came home was restless. It was late, of course, when 
he returned, but as he was not sleepy he sat up to read 
awhile. But he soon grew tired of this and began to get 
ready for bed. Then he noticed for the first time that 
his good wife had finished a new suit of pajamas for him. 
He had been asking for these for some time and was 
now duly delighted that he had them. He wondered 


264 


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why she had put bright yellow sleeves into the red 
blouse, but decided that he would not wake her to find 
out, as he could do that in the morning. He donned the 
suit with a happy smile and lay down. He dropped 
asleep almost immediately. It seemed to him that he 
had been in bed only about two minutes, when Sarah, 
his wife, awakened him and whispered, “Si, that steer is 
in the cabbage patch. ,, 

Si raised himself with a start and then saw it was 
daylight, although the sun was not yet up. As soon as he 
realized what his wife had said, he scrambled out of bed. 
His wife smiled as she saw him in his red and yellow 
pajamas, but said nothing. Si had had just enough sleep 
to make him feel mean and he said irascibly, “I’ll fix that 
old skinflint’s steer.” 

He then reached under the mattress and pulled out a 
slat. He hastily put on some slippers and went quietly 
out of the back door. His anger flamed up more than 
ever, when he saw that the steer had ruined most of his 
cabbages. Si was big and bony but was still nimble for 
his forty-five years. He now made a quick run and 
grabbed the marauder by the tail with his left hand, and 
with the other brought the slat down on his ribs with 
a resounding whack. The steer with a jump of surprise 
went for the fence. But Si went along and both jumped 
the barrier nimbly. A projecting nail caught a leg of 
the pantaloons, and as they were loose they stayed behind, 
but as Si afterward said, “My dander was up and I 
didn’t mind a little thing like that.” 


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265 


As the steer touched the ground Si came down too, 
and again applied his slat to the bovine’s ribs with a 
sound that woke the echoes and brought from the victim 
a sonorous bellow. Old man Saunders had not been 
able to sleep the night before, like most of the people on 
the street, and he was up early. He lived three of four 
houses below and was just coming out with two milk 
pails in his hands. He was just in time to see Si and the 
steer go by. His jaw dropped and he let go of the milk 
pails and stared in amazement; then realizing what the 
strange sight was he put his hands on his knees and 
laughed long and loud. 

In telling of it afterwards he said: “I had just come 
out of the front door to go over the street and do my 
milking, when I heard a great bellowing up the way and 
saw Deacon Hawkins’ white steer coming down the road 
on a mad gallop. The brute was making enough noise 
to waken the dead, and between every bellow there was a 
crack like a pistol shot; that was the slat getting in its 
work. Then the steer went by with a rush with some- 
thing hanging to his tail that looked like a couple of red 
and yellow streaks. I learned afterward that it was Si 
Hawkins taking a morning sprint.” 

Mrs. Hall was another one that had been unable to 
rest because of brooding over the funeral of the night 
before. Her nerves had been greatly unstrung. That 
morning hearing the unearthly bellowing she rushed to 
the window with a shudder, for she did not know what to 
expect. Then when the steer went by like a streak with 


266 


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Si in tow, she fell over in hysterical laughter and her 
nerves were saved. 

Si’s “dander” must indeed have been up for he kept 
on clear to the lower end of the street, plying his bed slat 
at every jump. The steer, maddened with fright and 
pain, dashed upon the bridge and thinking, no doubt, that 
the side railing was another fence to jump, cleared it with 
a bound, and when he struck ten feet below on his head 
broke his neck. Si had given up the chase at the edge 
of the bridge, but did not stay to see the finish of his 
work, but rushed to a store that had been opened early 
by an enterprising clerk, and secured an outfit to go 
home in. 

When Richton people met that morning, they had not 
forgotten the funeral of the night before, but even while 
they talked of that almost in whispers, some one would 
break in with “Ha, ha, did you see Si Hawkins this morn- 
ing as he chased a steer down the street?” As the story 
would be told they all forget the midnight funeral and 
its real meaning, and because of this Richton went on 
its lawlessness. 

* * * * * * * 

Bill Carter’s story was later corroborated by Hank 
Williams and Milt Emery, who were sent for clear out 
to Arizona where they had gone. The Governor was 
petitioned and soon Charlie was pardoned. 

It was a sad home coming and yet in many ways 
happy. Mrs. Colter regained consciousness and then sank 
into the first peaceful slumber she had had for many 
months. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

THE SLAVE JIM’S GRANDSON. 

The next morning when Mrs. Colter awoke from her 
slumber, her mind was clear but her bodily weakness 
seemed to have increased. Charlie stayed with her most 
of the day and she was perfectly happy. 

The days now slipped quietly by. Some mornings 
Mrs. Colter would seem stronger, but on the whole it 
was evident that she was gradually failing. On the 
morning of December first she awoke brighter than usual, 
and chatted considerable with Charlie and Mary. Charlie 
was very restless, wandering back and forth from the 
house to the barn. It was the day that he was to have 
been executed. As the time drew near ten o'clock, he 
went into the house and to his mother’s bedside. The 
Squire and Mary came in too ; they all seemed to want to 
be together until the dread hour was passed. It had been 
hanging like a night mare over them. As the clock began 
striking ten Mrs. Colter roused up out of a doze, and 
said: “0 Charlie, my boy, come here.” He quickly 
stooped over her and she clasped her arms about his 
neck. When the ten weary strokes had ceased, he began 
to lay her gently back upon the pillow. As he did so, 
they all saw to their consternation that she was dead. 

267 


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Mrs. Colter had been dearly beloved by all the com- 
munity and her funeral was largely attended. Burton did 
not officiate. He started over on learning of her death, 
to pay his respects and to offer his sympathy. He did not 
get to the house, however, for he met the Squire and 
stopped and said: “Squire, I was just going over to 
offer my sympathy in this sad bereavement, and to ask 
if there is anything that I can do.” 

Even in this hour of sorrow the Squire was bitter and 
replied, “You are not wanted.” Then added meaningly, 
“No one at our home wants you now or ever.” 

Without a word more Burton turned and drove back 
to Richton. 

The Squire secured a minister from a neighboring 
village who took charge of the services at the house an4 
at the grave. Burton went to the cemetery and as he 
stood with uncovered head, he felt as if it were a double 
funeral, and that all his hopes were being buried in the 
grave with Mrs. Colter. Mary stood across the coffin 
from him, but because of her heavy veil he could not see 
that her eyes were often turned to him and that they 
were full of love. 

Mrs. Fred Douglas, the wife of the great negro 
orator, and sister of the Squire, came to the funeral. It 
was the first time that she had been to Richton since her 
marriage. Douglas had been dead some time now, and 
she had taken up his work and lived in Washington. 
There she had a negro school and many were the differ- 
ent types that had flocked to her. Among them was a 


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269 


young negro, Jim by name, who claimed to be the grand- 
son of the slave Jim, who escaped from Col. Burton's 
plantation. Mrs. Douglas was not sure of his story and 
brought him with her, that he might talk with the Squire. 
She was greatly attached to this young negro and gave 
him many privileges. 

When the Squire first saw him, he started up as if 
frightened and said to Mrs. Douglas, “Eliza, who is that 
fellow ?” 

“Well, who do you think he looks like?” she asked 
with a smile. 

“Why, he looks exactly like that negro Jim that I tried 
to save many years ago at Oberlin.” 

“Well,” she answered, “his name is Jim and he claims 
to be the grandson of the slave you befriended.” 

“He is a villainous looking fellow. He looks even 
more like a desperado than did the other one, and he cer- 
tainly looked mean enough,” answered the Squire. 

When Mrs. Douglas replied she spoke a great truth. 
“Brother,” she said, “I have ceased long ago to judge 
people by their looks. I find too often that the man with 
a high forehead is a fool and that the man with a 
slanting brow is a genius. The man with the prominent 
chin is often a craven, and the man with the Roman 
nose is generally ruled by his wife. The fellow who 
smiles so affably and is so graceful, when you first meet 
him, is as likely to be mean to his children as is the cross 
looking man. The man who at first seems sour and 
morose, often when you get acquainted with him, you find 


270 


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that he is full of jokes and the jolliest of the crowd. TJie 
phrenologists, brother, may have the brain arranged in 
compartments all right, but no one can tell when the 
pompous man draws on his number eight hat so proudly 
whether he is covering a sixty ounce brain or a thick 
skull; the greatest man this country has yet produced, 
Abraham Lincoln — only a wore a six and seven-eighths 
hat. So, brother, when you say that Jim looks like a 
villain, I know you are correct, in regards to his looks, 
but I also know that he is one of the kindest, gentlest men 
that ever lived, and I would trust him anywhere.” 

“Well, Eliza,” answered the Squire smilingly, “you 
make a good case I am sure, but nevertheless, I will be 
better satisfied if I watch this negro closely.” 

It was soon known by most of the people in Richton 
that Jim the negro was the grandson of the slave whom 
the Squire had tried to save. When Burton heard this, 
he looked at the colored man closely the next time they 
met, and like the Squire was not very favorably im- 
pressed by Jim's looks. He had hard work to keep down 
a feeling of hatred for the black fellow who had done 
nothing worse, as far as Burton knew, than be the grand- 
son of the one who should have suffered for the murder, 
that Col. Burton was put in the penitentiary for. 

Mrs. Douglas remained two or three weeks after the 
funeral. As the people of Richton did not ostracize her 
because of the misalliance she had made, she did much 
calling. Jim in the meantime developed a great liking for 


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271 


Mary, and was always ready to run errands for her and 
tried in many ways to be of help. 

After her mother’s death, Mary realized that she was 
greatly run down, and tried to gain strength by being 
out of doors as much as possible. She walked much and 
enjoyed being in the woods back of the house. The trees 
in their rugged winter beauty appealed to her at all times, 
but especially this winter. 

The day before Christmas she started up these hills, 
early in the forenoon, for an outing. The Squire saw 
her go and told her to be careful and not slip on the ice 
anywhere and fall. He then went into the house. When 
he came out a few moments afterwards he saw Jim start- 
ing off in the same direction that she had taken. 

Jim had been alone with Mary a great many times, 
helping her with the milk in the spring house and in other 
ways. She did not fear him, and did not object in the 
least to his evident desire to be helpful. But the Squire 
had never gotten over his suspicion of the fellow and he 
now hastened out to Charlie, who was in the stable, and 
said : “Charlie, I wish that you would keep your eye on 
that negro; he has started to follow Mary. He is such 
a villainous looking chap that I cannot trust him.” 

“All right, father, I’ll try and keep him in sight,” 
answered Charlie as he started off in the same direction. 

Jim’s idea in following Mary that morning was to 
protect or help her if she needed anything. It is well 
that he did so or Mary would have lost her life. But 


272 


THE PATRIOT 


his action was sadly misunderstood by Charlie and by 
others. 

Mary had climbed almost to the top of the hill and had 
come around to a place about a quarter of a mile from 
home. Here was a deep gull, with very precipitous sides. 
From the place where she stood, the bank did not go 
down in one sheer drop, but there was first a slanting 
descent for about twenty feet, then a shelf almost level 
and about fifteen feet wide, then a perpendicular drop of 
over a hundred and fifty feet to the bottom of the gull. 
Mary stood a moment looking out over the valley and 
frozen lake. Then she glanced with a shudder into the 
depths below, and started to turn, but slipped as the 
Squire had cautioned her not to, and with a scream tum- 
bled over the bank. 

Charlie had lost sight for a moment of both the 
negro and of Mary. When he heard her scream, his 
blood leaped in his veins and his hands clenched. 

Jim was about a hundred feet behind Mary and saw 
her fall. With a quick run he was at the top of the bank, 
about the time she struck on the shelf below. She had 
hit her head in the descent, and when she arose to her 
feet went staggering toward the outer edge. Jim saw 
her danger and was over the bank like a shot. He 
grasped her by the arms and said, “Please, Miss, don’t go 
near that awful place.” But she in her dizziness did not 
realize what she was doing and began to struggle. Then 
Jim to save her was forced to push her upon the ground. 
As he did this Charlie came into view. 


THE PA TRIOT 


2 73 


Ninety-nine men in a hundred would have inferred 
just as Charlie did, that the negro had assaulted his sis- 
ter with lustful intent. This is the crime that makes 
men’s blood boil more than anything else, and under 
its direful influence they become almost brutes in their 
blood-thirstiness. Charlie rushed down upon Jim and 
dealt him a terrific blow. Jim turned and looked into 
his face and there seeing awful wrath fled toward the 
house. 

Charlie, half carrying and half leading Mary, reached 
home almost as soon as did the negro. Mary was still 
dizzy and did not realize what dark thoughts were surg- 
ing through her brother’s brain. He took her in the 
house and Mrs. Douglas took charge of her. 

Then he rushed out to the Squire and the hired men 
and said: “Jim assaulted Mary.” 

“What?” almost screamed the Squire. 

Charlie repeated his information a little more in de- 
tail, then the Squire said, “If that is so, kill him.” 

The hired men and Charlie started toward Jim who 
was leaning on the front gate. He heard the Squire say 
“kill him,” and when the men started in his direction, he 
involuntarily started to run down the road toward Rich- 
ton. Man likes a hunt and the best prey is man, and 
now they were off in pursuit. 

The Squire rushed into the house and telephoned over 
to Richton: “Stop the negro Jim; he has assaulted 
Mary.” Richton was full of Christmas shoppers. So the 
news was spread around quickly and the crowd went 


274 


THE PATRIOT 


wild. They looked out across the flat meadows and could 
see Jim coming with three men close behind. 

Burton and I were in one of the stores when the 
awful news was shouted about. He turned to me and 
grasped my arm (I have the marks his finger nails made 
in my flesh yet). 

The thought that flashed into my mind as I looked 
into his face was : “Now he will fail and will lead in the 
breaking of law.” But thank God he didn’t. I heard 
him murmur to himself: “Must this black man and his 
family come into my life again to blacken it. My God! 
Give me strength to do as I ought to do.” Then he 
rushed out. I was close on his heels. 

Jim was just coming over the bridge, panting for 
breath, and his eyes rolling in fear. He ran upon the 
hotel porch and there fell down from exhaustion. Ev- 
erybody now surged towards him, and on all sides we 
heard: “Kill him! hang him! burn him alive!” Burton 
ran over; he had in his hands a large flag of the stars 
and stripes. It was to have been used for decorating in 
the church, for the Christmas tree that evening. He 
elbowed his way through the crowd, many of whom were 
already kicking the fallen negro and only lacked a leader, 
and then they would go ahead and kill him. Burton 
came to the cowering man and wrapped around him the 
flag, then raised him up and shouted : “Back, men, back, 
let the law take its course, and this fellow will get his 
due. Respect this flag !” Then his wonderful voice rang 
out: 


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275 


“When Freedom from her mountain height 
Unfurled her standard to the air, 

She tore the azure robe of night, 

And set the stars of glory there. 

She mingled with its gorgeous dyes 
The milky baldric of the skies 
And striped its pure, celestial white, 

With streakings of the morning light.” 

The crowd paused. Burton would have conquered if 
the Squire had not just then drove up. He took in the 
situation instantly and shouted: “Hold my horse!” At 
his command some one grasped the bridle. He now got 
out and said in a quiet tone that brooks no interference : 
“Come on, if you are men, and hang this nigger.” 

Then once again the angry growl of the crowd arose 
and they began to press forward. At this Burton’s voice 
broke upon the icy air: “Back, back, touch not your 
country’s flag with desecrating hands. He who is wrapped 
in its folds will get his due. If he is guilty the law will 
hang him. Listen, 

“Flag of the free heart’s hope and home! 

By angel hands to valor given, 

Thy stars have lit the welcome dome, 

And all thy hues were born in heaven. 

Forever float that standard sheet! 

Where breathes the foe that falls before us, 

With freedom’s soil beneath our feet, 

And freedom’s banner streaming o’er us.” 


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THE PA TRIOT 


But it was no use; why dwell on the hideous result? 
The flag was torn off the negro and trampled in the mud. 
Burton was overpowered, and the black man was hung 
while protesting his innocence. 

Later, when Mary told her story, the people of Rich- 
ton realized how unjustly and how unlawfully they had 
murdered an innocent man. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

AT THE BROKEN BRIDGE. 


When our enemy does right, and we do wrong, and 
the action takes place publicly, then we hate him with 
increased hatred. Because of this when Squire Colter 
was assured, by the story that Mary told, that the lynch- 
ing of Jim was not only unlawful but unjustifiable, any 
way that it could be looked at, then his heart condemned 
him and he felt that he would take almost any measure 
to get Burton out of the community. His influence had 
increased effect now, for since the lynching in which 
practically all the people had taken part, in sentiment if 
not in action Burton’s presence was a standing rebuke 
to everybody. 

The congregations were gradually dwindling. Many 
who had been loyal to him began to ask each other 
whether a change of pastors was not desirable. They 
realized that the Squire was evidently greatly miffed and 
was a large giver, and the church felt that it could ill 
afford to have him withdraw his support. Where is the 
church that money doesn’t count above principle ? 

One day Deacon Hawkins, after hemming and haw- 
ing considerably finally said : “Mr. Burton, you seem to 
be alienating some of the best people of the church. Do 
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THE PA TRIOT 


you not think that you can moderate your views, or in 
some way get these people to return ?” 

“I am sure, deacon,” answered Burton, “that I should 
be greatly delighted to get them all back. I think that 
they have become alienated by my trying to enforce some 
laws here, and I cannot help but think that I have done 
right. Perhaps I have not been as tactful as I could 
have been, but I have always tried to be a gentleman. 
Generally, deacon, when we hear people say a man is not 
tactful enough, they mean he isn’t wishy-washy enough. 
They want him to agree with everybody, but a man that 
agrees with everybody will never do anything in the 
world. He may make no enemies, but he will not have 
any real friends, either.” 

“You will not try to win Squire Colter and his fam- 
ily, then?” asked Deacon Hawkins. 

“The Squire gives me no chance, and has forbidden 
me to enter his house, and I do not see how I am to do it. 
There are two things I must do, I must preach the gospel 
as I understand it, and I must be a good citizen of my 
country, and this means that I shall obey the laws, try to 
bring it about that other people will obey them, and exert 
my influence for getting better laws. I shall promulgate 
these ideas in a gentlemanly way, for they are funda- 
mental in my creed; I shall give due consideration to 
others’ belief, but when it comes to sacrificing my true 
convictions for worldly gain, honor or glory, I must 
refuse.” 


THE PATRIOT 


279 


“Well, some of the church people are getting a little 
tired of it all,” Deacon Hawkins said, as he shuffled away. 

The next day a committee waited upon Burton and 
said that it was the desire of the church to have a council 
of neighboring churches called, to see if the pastorate 
should not be dissolved. 

“Very well, gentlemen,” Burton said. “I am perfectly 
willing that this should be done. I feel as if the brethren 
would approve of my actions here, and I am ready to 
co-operate with you in the matter.” 

As a consequence of this a council convened the fol- 
lowing week Tuesday. The ministers and delegates from 
the neighboring churches came early and the Richton 
people served them a bountiful dinner. When the coun- 
cil gathered at two o’clock in the afternoon a great 
crowd was present. 

First Richton church was asked to make a statement 
why they wished the pastorate of Mr. Burton to termi- 
nate. Deacon Hawkins was the speaker for the church 
and he said: “Our pastor, Mr. Burton, has alienated a 
great many people by the attitude that he has taken in 
politics.” 

“By the way, if it is not out of order,” Burton said, “I 
would like to ask the deacon if he knows to which polit- 
ical party I belong.” 

The deacon stammered and grew red as he answered, 
“No, I don’t know as I could say positively to which 
party Mr. Burton belongs, but he has mixed too much, 
according to the views of some in civil affairs. These 


28 o 


THE PATRIOT 


things ought to be left with men of business and of 
politics ; a minister ought to confine himself to preaching 
the gospel. If he will make men better they will vote 
right. As I was saying, Mr. Burton has by his attitude 
compelled Squire Colter to stay away from church, and 
the Squire used to give over a hundred dollars a year to 
help us, and we don’t have that any more for he says 
that he will not come back until Mr. Burton leaves. And 
a great many of us feel that Mr. Burton is not the man 
for the place; he does not draw well any more.” 

Some brother, whose humorous bump was well de- 
veloped, said to the deacon: “You speak of preachers as 
if they were horses, oxen or jackasses, when you say they 
must draw well.” 

The deacon continued, not taking any notice of this 
irrelevant interruption: “We feel as if the dissolution of 
the pastoral relation would be for the best. Mr. Burton 
is evidently a crank. He wants us to enforce every law 
that is on the statute, and says if we don’t, or if we break 
them that we are embryo anarchists. We don’t like that 
and won’t stand it.” 

Burton was then asked to give his statement. He 
said : “I am trying to lead the young people and old ones 
too, of this community into the better life, and in all 
things I make Jesus Christ the central figure around which 
to gather all good deeds and thoughts. I utterly repudi- 
ate the thought that a minister ought not to have any- 
thing to do with politics or the enforcing of existing 
laws. This is a part of his business as a citizen of his 


THE PA TRIOT 


281 


country. I have done what I could, not in a partisan 
way, but from the point of view of patriotism. If I am 
mistaken it is an error of judgment and not one of heart. ,, 

At this point a brother who thought it necessary to 
speak in orotund tones because some college had given 
him a D. D., said: “Are you not the brother who had a 
paper on the Catechetical Fad, and said in that that the 
children of today could hear the voice of the Lord speak- 
ing to them as well as did Samuel of old ?” 

“Yes, I believe that I did take such a position, or a 
statement that such a doctrine could be taken from,” 
answered Burton. 

“You hear that, brethren ?” said the orotund tones 
of the big D. D from the little college, as he looked about 
with a lionlike shake of his Beecher locks. 

When the matter had been gone over thoroughly the 
council voted to be by itself and after a half hour’s dis- 
cussion came out and said that in view of the facts as 
presented the council advised Burton to resign. It was a 
great surprise to him. He had not expected this. He 
believed that the ministers would see that in a pastor’s 
work some are bound to become offended. He thought 
that they would commend his course at least, and then 
give him a chance to resign of his own will. But when 
he heard their decision he arose and said as steadily as 
he could : “Very well, I then hand in my resignation to 
the church at this time to take place immediately.” 
f Then he turned and walked out with bowed head. He 
determined to leave Richton that very hour. Outside he 


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THE PA TRIOT 


found Fred Seton, who had remained loyal to his pastor, 
and Fred had Helen with him. Burton went to him and 
said: “Fred, I want you to sell Dannie and send me the 
money to Mapleton. Pack my books and send them; I 
will walk as far as Hempton tonight.” Then he reached 
for Helen, as he said to her: “Come on, sweetheart, you 
are all that I have left now, and you must brighten my 
life.” He then shook hands with Fred and turned away, 
taking the road to Hempton. 

Burton did not know that Mary and the Squire at- 
tended the conference. They were there in a back seat, 
the Squire watching everything with a pleased smile, 
while she looked full of sorrow. 

As Burton turned from Fred, Mary came out of the 
church and was soon at his side. When there, she laid 
her hand upon his arm and said: “Where are you going?” 

He turned to her and replied : “I am going to Maple- 
ton and will there formulate my plans. I am going to 
walk to Hempton tonight ; I do not know what I will do. 
But I can’t stay in Richton any more.” 

“I am going with you,” Mary said. 

“What?” cried Burton. 

“I am going with you,” she answered. 

“Do you know what you are doing ?” asked Burton. 

“Oh, yes,” she replied, “I have thought and fought 
it all out by myself. I promised father as long as I re- 
mained under his roof that I would obey him, and I stayed 
as long as mother lived, but now I am free, and I am 
promised to you and I want to go, and I am going.” 


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283 


“Thank God,” said Burton, “everything looks bright 
now. Come on, we will be married this evening in 
Hempton.” 

The Squire did not notice when Mary left the church, 
and it was nearly a half hour afterwards when he came 
out with the rest of the people. He began hunting around 
for Mary. At last Fred said to him: “She went away 
with Mr. Burton and Helen.” 

“Where?” 

“To Hempton, to be married.” 

“What?” cried the Squire, blue in the face with rage. 
“Gone with Burton; gone with the fellow her father 
hates; gone, can it be possible? He must have some 
hypnotic influence over her. Come, friends, let us over- 
take them and I will soon bring her back.” 

Two wagons were quickly loaded with the men, all 
leading citizens of Richton and vicinity. It was the mid- 
dle of January and there always comes a January thaw 
in western New York. The week had been quite warm 
for the time of year and the streams had been swollen 
and had done considerable damage, but were now going 
down. About a mile and a half out of Richton was a 
bridge that spanned quite a large creek. When Burton 
and Mary with Helen drew near they saw a sign nailed 
to the railing of this bridge that said: “This bridge is 
closed because of the flood. Keep off. By order of the 
Supervisor, A. Merton.” 

As they came in sight of this Burton said : “There, we 
can't go across that bridge.” 


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THE PA TRIOT 


“Perhaps it is safe, I see they have been repairing 
it,” answered Mary. 

“Yes, but I don’t think it is finished,” answered Bur- 
ton. “Besides,” he continued, looking into her eyes with 
a smile, “it is against the law. I think that we can go 
under and get over the creek, for there are some old 
planks down there and some large stones. I am sure that 
we can manage it.” 

Then they turned and went down below, and Burton 
soon had a little foot bridge arranged. He said : “Now, 
I am going to carry you two girls over. Who wants to 
go first?” 

Helen said : “Me want to go first, Uncle Rob.” 

“All right, here you go,” Burton shouted as he placed 
her upon his shoulder. He soon had her on the other 
side and put her well back from the water and cautioned 
her to remain very quiet while he went back for Mary. 
For some reason just as he turned away he stooped down 
and kissed her little rose-bud mouth and said, “Do you 
love me, honey?” 

“Tourse I do,” she replied, as she clasped her little 
chubby arms about his neck and laid her little pink cheek 
against his. Then he hastened back to help Mary over. 

The wagons, in which were the Squire and others, 
had now come in sight of the bridge. Some one said, 
“Why this bridge is closed. Can we go over?” 

“Of course,” shouted the Squire, “the bridge is nearly 
repaired. I was up here this forenoon and it is solid. 
There are a few loose boards and uprights that may be 


THE PA TRIOT 285 

jarred down as we go over, but it is safe. Merton will 
have it fixed and the sign off by tomorrow. ,, 

“But it is forbidden,” said some one evidently im- 
pressed by Burton’s fight for law. 

“Oh, what of that,” the Squire replied. “Give me the 
lines, I’ll drive over. I’m not going to have that fellow’s 
foolish idea barring me at every step.” 

With this he struck the team and dashed upon the 
bridge. They went over safely, but when they reached 
the other side they heard screams below. Stopping to 
investigate they found Mary and Burton weeping, with 
little Helen in their arms. She had been killed. A plank 
had been shaken down from above by the teams crossing 
and had fallen and struck her upon the head and she 
died almost immediately. 

Burton was beside himself with grief when he picked 
up her little limp body. Then came the Squire and the 
others. Burton shouted : “At last, Squire Colter, you and 
others have taken the life of a little babe by ignoring 
and not obeying law. The light of the little one’s life 
has gone out because of your criminal disobedience. I 
would go back to Richton and enforce the law and have 
you all up for trial for murder if I did not know too well 
the uselessness of it all. What could I do? Nothing. 
You are all against me. Her life has gone because you 
have disobeyed law, but her lot will be a far happier one 
than will that of others who are babes now, for unless 
you as a nation awaken to the awfulness of your action, 
future generations will reap worse than death.” 


286 


THE PA TRIOT 


With this scathing invective Burton turned and 
walked away toward Hempton. His righteous anger had 
quelled the crowd. Mary was by his side. As she went 
by her father she said: “Good bye, father,” but he was 
dumb. When they came to the brow of the hill, they 
stopped and looked back. Below they saw the crowd 
still standing there. Mary laid her hand upon one of 
Burton’s arms, which were clasped around the little life- 
less Helen, and said : “You are right, and yet you are 
driven out because you are in the minority. Because 
you stood for the right Helen is killed by those who 
hold the power, but they are wrong. But courage, cour- 
age, Rob, we will go and begin over again. Let us re- 
member, 

“ ‘Truth forever on the scaffold, wrong 
Forever on the throne — 

Yet that scaffold sways the future, and 
Behind the dim unknown, 

Standeth God within the shadow. 

Keeping watch above his own.’ 

“Come on, Rob, we will keep each other strong. 

“ ‘They must upward still, and onward, 

Who would keep abreast of truth ; 

Lo, before us gleam her camp fires ! We 
Ourselves must pilgrims be, 

Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly 
Through the desperate winter seas.’ ” 

Then they turned and went over the hills and dis- 
appeared, but only for a short time. For Burton sudden- 


THE PA TRIOT 


287 


ly stopped and said: “Mary, since you are with me I 
have courage. Let us go back and live our principles for 
the state and church in Richton. ,, This they did. They 
were married that evening and live there — but that is 
another story. 

[the end] 





1908 


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